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Sketches  of  the  West  / 


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Sketches  of  the  West  t 

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i.^.^iiii'k  Ar  jiTiir  :;iiiliir.--;till!lir.:.it1l!k  iiiiiir.  jiJIkr.  Jiiiw:,.  Jilir  maliik  aiH!k,  jiiUlk  Ar.  AmAifi.jilk  JiUfa  irfliir  iiiJk  Ar  iM 


By  kernel  DUDLEY. 

(M.  C.  Russell.) 

Author  of  "  Odd  Hours,"  "The  Lost  Agate,"  "  Straws  of  Humor,"  "A  Month 
in  the  Wildwood,"  " Evening  Thoughts,"  "The  Beaded  Moccasin,"  etc. 


"THE    RIVERSIDE"    PRESS: 
MINNESOTA   STATE  TRAINING  SCHOOL,    RED  WING. 


-7^y:^y:^^ 


"?-,wSieU  ,  (^\on-iS  (_!  u 


^ 


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WW'WW^W^fWW^'W^WW^W^'W'W'WW^WW'WW'WW'W% 


Sketches  of  the  West  I 


By  kernel  DUDLEY. 

(M.  C.  Russell.) 

Author  of  "Odd  Hours,"  "The  Lost  Agate,"  "  Straws  of  Humor,"  "A  Month 
in  the  Wildwood,"  "Evening  Thoughts,"  "The  Beaded  Moccasin,"  etc. 


"THE    RIVERSIDE"    PRESS: 
MINNESOTA   STATE  TRAINING   SCHOOL,    RED  WING. 
1896.         = 


f 

A3 


CONTENTS. 

The  Hunted  Hunter 7 

Johnny  Cuttmg 18 

An  Early  Day  Trip— No  1 28 

An  Early  Day  Trip— No  2 42 

A  Mighty  Close  Shave r -78 

Lost  in  a  Storm 84 

On  Picket 90 

The  Old  Settler 101 

Gathering  Wild-Cats 103 


Sketches  of  the  West. 


THE   HUNTED   HUNTER. 

JOHN  SNOWDEN  flourished  in  Minnesota  from  1850  to  1857. 
We  knew  him  best,  and  were  with  him,  during  the  year 
1856,  when  civilization  in  this  corner  of  the  continent  was 
only  in  its  incipiency.  John  was  what  might  be  called  an  "odd 
genius"  in  his  way,  and  in  a  crowd  would  not  attract  any 
special  attention — we  mean  in  a  crowd  of  frontiermen.  Quiet  to 
an  extreme,  unassuming,  retiring  and  reticent,  excepting  only 
with  the  very  few  he  chose  to  consider  his  particular  friends. 

Snowden  was  a  famous — a  professional — hunter  and  trapper, 
and  he  did  but  little  else  but  pursue  the  chase  or  take  fur,  during 
the  proper  seasons.  In  the  summer  months  he  might  be  found 
about  the  settlements  or  traveling  up  and  down  on  the  primitive 
river  craft  of  those  early  times,  simply  putting  in  the  portion  of 
the  year  that  was  of  but  little  account  to  him  in  his  profession. 
He  was  always  a  welcome  guest  at  the  humble  homes  of  the  few 
settlers  in  the  Minnesota  River  valley;  for,  in  addition  to  his 
quiet,  genial  manner,  he  loved  children,  and  was  never  so  happy 
as  when  he  was  holding  the  little  ones  on  his  knee,  telling  them 
childish  stories,  or,  with  his  hunting-knife,   whittling  out  rude 


Sketches  of  the  West. 


little  toys  for  their  enjoyment.  He  would  make  his  home  for 
weeks  at  a  time  with  the  family  of  some  favorite  friend — amus- 
ing the  children,  providing  firewood  for  the  housewife,  and  secur- 
ing more  or  less  small  game  for  the  pioneer's  household;  and 
when  at  last  the  time  arrived  for  his  departure  to  the  far-off 
wilds  for  the  fall,  winter  and  early  spring  months,  not  only  the 
children,  but  even  the  older  members  of  the  family  were  pimply 
grief -stricken  at  the  loss,  from  their  humble  but  happy  fireside, 
of  honest,  true,  and  noble -hearted  John  Snowden. 

Snowden  was  a  man  who  never  boasted  of  his  feats  or  adven- 
tures, and  though  he  was  known  far  and  wide  as  the  most  daring 
woodsman  in  the  Territory,  yet  it  was  seldom  that  he  would  per- 
mit himself  to  be  drawn  into  a  relation  of  his  vast  volume  of 
experiences,  during  the  number  of  years  he  had  stood  single- 
handed  among  the  animals  of  the  forest,  and  defied  the  prestige 
of  the  Sioux  and  Chippewa  Indians.  His  intrepid  and  silent 
character  had  gained  for  himself  not  only  the  respect  but  even 
the  superstitious  awe  of  the  two  tribes,  throughout  and  beyond 
whose  wild  domain  he  roamed  at  will.  Most  of  his  hunting  and 
trapping,  however,  was  done  in  the  country  away  toward  the 
head  of  Lake  Superior,  extending  clear  north  to  the  headwaters 
of  the  St.  Louis  River,  and  west  as  far  as  the  source  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi— this  great  area  of  country  lying  wholly  in  the  "  Chippe- 
wa country."  He  would  usually  be  lost  to  all  human  knowledge 
and  sight  from  about  the  first  of  October  until  May — save  only 
to  the  Indians  who  would  occasionally  meet  him,  and  occasionally 
entertain  him  for  a  day,  perhaps,  in  one  of  their  villages,  on  his 
way  from  one  portion  Of  the  wilderness  to  another.  When  he  came 
out  in  the  spring,  however,  the  rich  fur  and  peltry  he  would  bring 
out,  would  attest  not  only  his  industry,  but  his  valor  in  the  dar- 
ing life  he  led.  He  always  sold  his  furs  to  one  particular  trader 
in  the  then  embryo  city  of  St.  Paul. 

It  was  during  the  summer  of  1856  that  he  told  us  something  of 
his  previous  season's  operations,  including  an  adventure  which 
he  said  was  a  little  out  of  the  usnal  line  of  his  experiences  in  the 
almost  boundless  solitudes  of  these  northern  wilds. 

He  had  left  the  settlements  at  the  usual  time,  and  penetrated 
the  country  toward  Lake  Superior  until  near  Rock  River,  where 


Sketches  of  the  West. 


he  found  an  encampment  of  Indians,  with  whom  he  remained 
over  night.  The  village  was  a  large  one,  and  with  his  experience 
among  the  sons  of  the  forest,  he  quickly  discovered  that  some- 
thing unusual  exercised  the  minds  of  the  assembled  red  men. 
There  were  many  branches  of  the  tribe  there  that  he  had  never 
seen  before,  and  many  who  had  never  seen  a  white  man  —  men, 
women  and  children,  with  their  rude  accoutrements,  were  as- 
sembled there,  and  apparently  without  previous  arrangement,  as 
everything  seemed  topsy-turvy  about  the  hastily  organized 
village. 

When  he  entered  the  village,  near  nightfall,  he  created  a  com- 
motion that  prettj'  nearly  bordered  upon  consternation.  The 
wel^sh  dogs,  the  squaws,  the  children  and  many  of  the  men, 
seemed  to  think  that  some  evil  spirit  had  fallen  among  them,  and 
their  excitement  was  becoming  intense,  when  an  aged  chief  came 
suddenly  upon  the  scene  of  the  excitement,  and  seeing  the  white 
hunter,  instantly  recognized  him,  and  gave  him  a  hearty  greeting, 
bidding  him  welcome  to  the  village  with  almost  wild  gesticula- 
tions of  joy.  He  turned  to  the  affrighted  villagers,  and  addressed 
them  in  a  loud,  commanding  voice.  He  told  them  that  the  pale- 
faced  brother  who  had  come  among  them  was  a  mighty  hunter, 
and  a  friend  of  all  who  were  friendly  to  him,  and  that  instead  of 
being  frightened  they  ought  to  dance  with  joy  that  he  had  been 
sent  to  them  by  the  Great  Spirit  at  a  time  when  they  needed  the 
strong  words  of  a  brave  man  so  greatly. 

Then  the  whole  village  pressed  around,  and  viewed  his  strange 
gun,  accoutrements  and  dress,  with  amazement;  the  squaws 
seemed  most  impressed  with  the  sight  of  his  long,  brown,  silken 
hair,  and  they  begged  the  old  chief  to  permit  them  to  stroke  it 
with  their  hands.  Snowden,  seeing  the  wonder  they  evinced, 
took  his  mighty  knife  from  its  jeweled  scabbard  and  quickly  cut 
off  a  liberal  lock  and  handed  it  to  them,  and  while  they  warily 
passed  it  from  one  to  another,  assembling  in  groups  to  examine 
it,  the  old  chief  motioned  him  away  and  conducted  him  to  his 
wigwam  in  the  center  of  the  village. 

Here  he  bade  the  white  hunter  be  seated  on  the  carpet  of  soft 
skins,  and  after  ordering  his  women  to  prepare  some  rice  and 
dried  meat  for  his  guest,  he  lighted  his  friendly  pipe  and,  seated 


10  Sketches  of  the  West. 

together,  they  took  alternate  draws  of  the  kinnekinnic  from  a  long- 
stemmed  stone  pipe, 

Snowden,  from  the  moment  he  entered  the  village,  felt  that 
some  unusual  anxiety  oppressed  the  Indians,  and  when  the  old 
chief  was  seated  he  promptly  asked  if  anything  was  wrong  with 
them.  His  first  thought  was  that  the  Indians  must  either  be 
contemplating  a  war  against  their  always  bitter  enemy,  the  Sioux, 
or  else  that  they  had  heard  of  a  terrible  defeat  of  their  tribe  by 
the  Sioux,  or  something  of  that  sort,  and  asked  the  chief  if  such 
was  the  case.  The  venerable  Indian  replied  negatively  to  this 
inquiry,  however,  and  told  the  hunter  he  was  right  in  his  surmise 
that  they  were  troubled,  but  their  anxiety  was  of  quite  a  different 
nature.  He  told  him  that  the  "bad  spirit  beast,"  away  from  the 
far  north,  had  again  invaded  their  hunting  grounds,  and  that  his 
people  were  sorely  troubled,  and  had  congregated  for  counsel. 

Snowden  at  once  divined  the  character  of  their  fears,  for  he 
recollected  that  he  had  heard  of  the  superstitious  awe  in  which 
the  Indians  held  a  certain  ferocious  wild  beast,  that  at  long  inter- 
vals came  down  into  their  country  from  the  far  northern  British 
Possessions — an  animal  which  he  from  the  descriptions  he  had 
heard  of  it,  and  from  his  knowledge  of  natural  history,  called  the 
British  Jaguar. 

These  dangerous  animals,  as  he  learned  from  the  old  chief, 
only  visited  the  region  as  far  south  as  the  section  in  which  he 
and  his  band  lived  and  hunted,  once  in  three,  four  or  five  years; 
and  aside  from  their  ferocious  character,  the  Indians  held  their 
appearance  in  their  country  as  an  omen  of  terrible  import,  fore- 
boding dreadful  troubles  from  smallpox,  war,  and  a  scarcety  of 
food  of  all  kinds.  The  chief  said  that  when  these  bad  animals 
came,  the  Indians  rapidly  assembled  into  villages,  and  during  the 
stay  of  the  beasts,  very  little  hunting  was  done,  and  even  that 
little  was  done  in  companies;  no  Indian  would  venture  anywhere 
alone,  until  these  terrible  creatures  were  known  to  have  returned 
to  the  north. 

Snowden  inquired  of  the  chief  how  long  this  animal  had  been  in 
the  woods  thereabout,  in  what  locality  it  was  last  heard,  etc. 
He  was  told  that  its  presence  had  only  been  discovered  a  few 
days  before,  and  it  seemed  to  have  its  headquarters  not  far  north 


Sketches  of  the  West.  11 

of  Kettle  River — the  very  section  to  which  Snowden  was  then  on 
his  way.  He  told  the  chief  this,  but  the  old  Indian  said  he 
supposed  now  that  he  had  heard  of  the  bad  animal  being  there, 
that  he  would  go  no  further  in  that  direction.  Snowden  assured 
him,  however,  that  he  did  not  fear  the  brute,  and  w-)uld  try  and 
rid  the  country  of  its  presence  if  possible,  and  bring  peace  and 
happiness  again  to  the  chief's  band.  The  old  man  clasped  the 
white  hunter  by  both  hands,  and  assured  him  in  his  own  tongue 
— which  Snowden  could  speak  and  understand  as  well  as  his  own 
language — that  such  a  thing  as  his  capturing  the  animal  would 
be  impossible:  and  that  he  would  surely  be  devoured  by  the 
brute  if  he  went  within  his  range:  but  if  the  Great  Spirit 
could  permit  him  to  rid  his  hunting  grounds  of  this  animal 
with  the  evil  eye,  his  band  would  never  be  able  to  do  too  much 
for  him.  Snowden  laughed  at  the  old  chief's  fears  and  excitement, 
told  him  he  would  now  eat  his  rice  and  meat  and  then  lie  down 
to  sleep;  that  in  the  morning  he  would  be  off  early:  that  he  had  a 
camp,  which  he  had  occupied  the  previous  season,  right  in  the 
range  of  the  bad  animal,  as  reported;  and  he  thought  he  would 
be  able  to  re-establish  his  camp,  secure  his  usual  amount  of  fur 
and  get  out  alive — at  least  he  should  try  the  experiment. 

During  the  night  the  chief  informed  his  band  of  the  determina- 
tion of  the  white  hunter,  and  when  Snowden  took  his  departure 
for  the  north  next  morning,  the  whole  village  assembled  to  bid 
him  godspeed,  in  their  simple  yet  emphatic  way,  upon  what  they 
conceived  to  be  a  most  desperate  undertaking.  They  beat  their 
rude  drums,  danced  up  and  down  and  sang  their  wildest  songs 
until  the  hunter  was  lost  both  to  sight  and  hearing. 

In  a  couple  of  days  more  Snowden  arrived  at  his  old  camping 
place,  for  that  section,  and  spent  the  first  day  in  putting  things 
to  rights  for  the  coming  winter's  campaign.  Of  course,  in  his 
approach  thereto,  he  had  kept  his  eyes  and  ears  open  for  signs 
or  pounds  of  the  strange  animal  within  whose  haunts,  according 
to  Indian  authority,  he  then  was — and  he  knew  his  information 
on  the  subject  could  be  well  relied  upon.  The  old  chief  was  one 
of  the  most  reliable  men  in  the  tribe,  as  he  had  learned  when  he 
met  him  two  years  before  at  a  general  counsel  which  took  place 
many  miles  to  the  south  of  where  his  band  made  their  home. 


12  Sketches  of  the  Wes}. 

His  first  night  in  camp  was  spent,  until  a  late  hour,  in  putting 
his  hunting  implements  and  his  steel  traps  in  good  condition,  and 
at  last  he  turned  into  his  bunk  and  was  soon  wrapped  in  slumber 
— though  he  always  slept  lightly,  the  least  unusual  noise  serving 
to  arouse  him  at  any  time. 

He  did  not  know  how  long  he  had  been  asleep,  but  it  must 
have  been  well  toward  morning,  when  he  was  startled  from  his 
slumber  by  what  seemed  to  him  the  most  unearthly  sound  he 
had  ever  heard.  He  sprang  to  his  feet  and  grasped  his  trusty 
rifle  and  knife;  the  sound  echoed  and  re-echoed  through  the  woods, 
making  the  lonely  wilderness  doubly  hideous  by  the  terrible 
shriek,  ending  in  a  sort  of  deep  and  plaintive  moan,  that  was 
certainly  the  most  chilling  sound,  taken  as  a  whole,  that  the 
imagination  could  create.  He  listened  breathlessly  for  probably 
ten  liiinutes  or  longer,  when  the  shrieking  moan  began  again, 
occupying  nearly  half  a  minute  from  first  to  last,  and  seemed  a 
combination  of  howl,  shriek,  roar  and  a  crying  moan-like  sound, 
not  wholly  unlike  the  agonized  utterance  of  the  human  voice. 
"This  is  the  Indians'  'bad  animal,'  thought  Snowden,  "and, 
verily,  if  its  size  and  ferocious  appearance  is  even  half  in  propor- 
tion to  its  awful  voice,  it  must  indeed  be  a  formidable  enemy — 
one  that  would  test  the  purest  bravery  to  meet  face  to  face." 

One  peculiarity  in  the  sound  he  very  quickly  observed;  that 
was,  the  difficulty  in  locating  it,  exactly.  The  weird  sound 
seemed  to  be  on  all  sides  of  him,  as  it  were;  or,  one  part  of  its 
scream  seemed  to  be  at  one  point,  while  another  section  of  it  had 
the  effect  of  changing  its  locality  a  considerable  distance,  until, 
after  listening  to  the  whole  series  it  was  difficult  to  tell  just  in 
what  direction  it  was  located.  He  noticed,  however,  that  the 
very  last  part  of  the  sound  seemed  to  most  surely  point  to  the 
place  from  whence  it  proceeded.  He  felt  relieved,  after  an  hour 
had  passed  in  studying  the  singular  sound,  to  know  that  it  was 
coming  no  nearer  to  his  camp,  and  that  it  remained  at  a  consider- 
able distance.  Thus  he  spent  the  remainder  of  the  night  paying- 
strict  attention  to  an  entertainment  that  was  as  terrible  in  its 
character  as  it  was  new  to  even  his  ear,  which  was  so  well  versed 
in  the  multitude  of  night-sounds  in  the  unexplored  wilderness. 
He  was  struck  by  the  tremendous  power  of   the  beast's  voice, 


Sketches  of  the  West.  13 


which,  in  the  otherwise  silent  night,  seemed  to  almost  jar  the 
forest  with  its  weight.  Just  in  the  gray  of  dawn  he  heard  it  for 
the  last  time,  and  apparently  at  a  greater  distance. 

After  he  had  eaten  his  morning  meal  of  dried  meat  and  rice, 
he  prepared  his  camp  to  resist  the  invasion  of  wild  beasts  during 
his  day's  absence,  and  after  carefully  loading  his  rifle,  and  get- 
ting his  ammunition,  knife,  hand-ax,  etc.,  in  perfect  shape  for 
either  offensive  or  defensive  operations,  he  made  a  pack  of  his 
steel  traps  and  started  to  spend  the  day  in  looking  up  good  trap- 
ping sites  and  putting  out  his  traps  along  the  little  streams  and 
around  small  lakes  in  the  neighborhood. 

As  may  well  be  inferred  he  kept  his  eyes  and  ears  about  him — 
no  less  the  latter  than  the  former.  He  was  satisfied  that  his 
guess  of  its  character  was  generally  correct,  although  he  had 
never  seen  one;  and  still,  judging  from  what  he  had  heard  during 
the  night  just  gone,  he  was  convinced  that  he  had  underestimated 
the  size  and  powder  of  the  animal.  He  felt  sure  of  its  cat-like 
character,  and  'knew  that  to  be  prepared  for  its  reception  meant 
pimply,  never  to  be  unprepared,  for  a  single  moment,  either  night 
or  day.  He  was  convinced  that  it  was  aware  of  his  presence,  and 
in  all  probability  would  hover  on  his  trail,  wherever  he  went. 
He  had  confidence  in  his  ability  to  cope  with  the  animal,  provid- 
ing it  did  not  come  upon  him  when  he  was  not  ready  for  action — 
a  thing  he  determined  not  to  permit.  John  Snowden  was  simply 
a  dead  shot  with  his  rifle,  cool  and  determined  in  all  emergencies, 
and  fearing  nothing. 

During  the  day  he  found  good  trapping  grounds,  with  "  signs  " 
indicating  that  fur  was  at  least  as  abundant  as  upon  the  occasion 
of  his  other  expedition  to  this  particular  part  of  the  country. 
In  early  evening  he  again  reached  his  main  camp,  without  hav- 
ing seen  or  heard  anything  of  the  animal  that  had  so  terrified 
the  Indians,  both  by  its  formidable  character  and  the  ill-omens 
they  had  attached  to  it. 

He  spent  the  succeeding  night  in  complete  readiness  for  any 
probable  emergency,  but  the  morning  came  and  nothing  had  been 
heard  of  it.  To  most  men  this  silence  would  have  proven  a  relief, 
and  been  indicative  that  the  animal  had  withdrawn  from  the 
neighborhood:  but  Snowden  was  not  the  man  to  believe  in  any 


14  Sketches  of  the  Went, 


such  theory,  nor  to  relax  his  watchfulness  for  an  instant.  He 
rather  felt  more  oppressed  by  the  silence,  than  otherwise.  For 
that  day  he  had  laid  out  a  somewhat  extended  trip,  which  would 
necessitate  his  camping  in  the  woods,  wherever  night  might  over- 
take him.  Accordingly  he  again  put  his  main  camp  into  condi- 
tion to  leave  in  safety,  and,  preparing  himself  for  a  two  days, 
jaunt — including  a  visit  to  his  traps  on  his  return  the  next  day — 
he  set  off  at  an  early  hour,  and  passed  the  day  without  molesta- 
tion, or  the  slightest  intimation  of  the  presence  of  the  dangerous 
animal. 

As  night  came  on,  Snowden  prepared  his  camp  in  a  clump  of 
pines,  in  the  midst  of  considerable  fallen  timber.  He  provided 
himself  with  plenty  of  firewood  and  kept  up  a  bright  little  camp- 
fire,  as  indeed  was  quite  necessary,  for  the  weather  was  very 
frosty,  although  no  snow,  had  yet  fallen.  After  his  "hunter's 
supper,"  he  filled  his  capacious  pipe  and  stretched  himself  upon 
the  ground  for  a  long  reverie  and  an  equally  long  smoke.  Thus 
he  lay,  sending  up  curls  of  the  blue  smoke  into  the  frosty  air, 
and  dreamily  gazed  into  the  burning  embers,  forming  pictures  in 
the  fire  of  many  a  familiar  face  and  many  an  enchanting  land- 
scape, in  miniature.  At  last  when  quite  late,  he  roused  up, 
replenished  the  fire  with  wood,  and  spread  his  blanket  upon  the 
ground  preparatory  to  taking  a  trapper's  snooze.  But,  he  had 
not  even  lain  down,  ere  he  was  made  emphatically  aware  that  he 
had  other  matters  to  attend  to  than  that  of  spending  the  remain- 
der of  the  night  in  sleep^the  Jaguar  was  with  him,  and  had  no 
doubt  been  near  him  in  all  his  travels  of  the  day,  stealthily,  from 
convenient  cover,  watching  his  every  movement. 

The  first  knowledge  he  had  of  its  presence,  was  one  of  those 
unearthly  yelling  and  screaming  moans,  that  made  the  wilderness 
fairly  quake  with  its  force,  and  the  hunter's  hair  stand  on  end. 
Snowden  snatched  his  rifle  quickly,  examined  its  condition,  and 
with  his  knife  and  hand-ax  in  place,  he  seated  himself  near  the 
fire,  in  the  angle  of  two  logs  he  had  previously  rolled  together, 
and  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  he  crouched  in  a  comfortable 
position  to  await  developments.  Occasionally,  with  one  hand,  he 
would  reach  to  his  store  of  wood  and  replenish  his  camp-fire. 
At  intervals  of  about  fifteen  minutes  the  beast  would  give  vent  to 


Sketches  of  the  West.  15 

its  awful  chorus,  and  Snowden  was  convinced  that  it  was  stealth- 
ily traveling  in  a  circle  around  his  camp,  and  at  no  great  distance 
from  him.  Gradually,  as  the  hours  wore  on,  the  animal  evidently 
contracted  its  circle,  drawing  nearer  and  nearer.  Its  screams, 
too,  grew  less  frequent,  until  at  last  they  ceased  altogether. 
Then  it  was  that  the  hunter's  eyes  and  ears  were  primed  to  their 
utmost  tension,  in  order  that  he  might  not  be  taken  unawares; 
his  wood  was  growing  scarce,  and  this  gave  him  no  little  uneasi- 
ness, for  he  knew  that  the  fire  would  play  an  effective  part  in 
warding  off  an  attack,  for  there  is  no  wild  beast  but  that  is 
afraid  of  fire.  For  a  long  time  he  heard  nothing,  but  at  last  he 
heard  a  dry  stick  break  under  the  foot  of  the  beast,  and  as  it 
drew  nearer  in  its  circles  he  could  keep  note  of  its  position  by  the 
occasional  breaking  of  a  dry  twig  under  its  tread,  although  its 
crouching  step  was  otherwise  as  cat-like  and  silent  as  the  grave. 
Finally,  even  these  evidences  ceased  altogether,  and  the  hunter 
was  completely  nonplussed.  His  fire  was  growing  fainter  and 
fainter,  and  he  could  scarcely  have  dared  to  cease  his  vigilant 
watch  to  have  put  on  more  wood  even  if  there  had  been  more. 

The  hunter  was  now  wrought  up  to  a  much  higher  strain  of 
anxiety  (as  under  the  circumstances  he  had  ample  reason  to  be), 
than  he  had  ever  been  before  in  all  his  scores  of  hunting  adven- 
tures. There  he  was,  almost  within  the  grasp  of  a  vastly  more 
ferocious  beast  than  he  had  ever  seen,  and  of  whose  mighty  power 
he  was  fully  aware.  It  had  him,  too,  at  a  frightful  disadvantage; 
the  brute  could  see  him,  through  its  cat-like  orbs,  whilst  he  could 
not  even  guess  at  its  exact  location — it  had  its  restless  and  greedy 
gaze  upon  him,  watching  his  every  motion,  while  he  strained  his 
eyes  out  into  the  darkness,  all  about  the  circle  continually,  in  a 
vain  hope  of  even  getting  a  glimpse  of  its  body. 

After  what  seemed  to  be  an  age,  Snowden  saw  what  looked 
like  two  glowing  balls  of  fire,  as  the  dim  light  of  the  fagots  re- 
flected upon  them,  just  above  a  big  log  that  lay  some  four  or  five 
rods  away;  he  knew  these  to  be  the  eyes  of  the  monster,  and  mon- 
ster he  now  judged  it  to  really  be,  as  the  eyes  seemed  to  be 
many  inches  apart.  His  last  chance  for  his  life  had  now  come, 
and,  without  taking  his  eyes  from  those  of  the  terrible  animal, 
he  silently,  and  so  gradually  as  to  scarcely  move  at  all,  placed  his 


16  Sketches  of  the  West. 

rifle,  at  a  rest,  across  the  log,  put  his  body  into  an  easy  position 
to  take  as  accurate  an  aim  as  possible  in  the  darkness.  He  knew 
if  he  missed,  it  would  be  the  "  hunter's  last  shot,"  sure  enough. 
The  beast  remained  immovable,  its  eyes  fixed  upon  him,  and  its 
body,  no  doubt,  in  perfect  position  for  a  last  spring  upon  its  prey, 
at  the  least  move  on  his  part. 

Snowden  finally  obtained  a  position  that  enabled  him  to  get  a 
look  along  his  gun-barrel,  while  the  cold  sweat  stood  out  all  over 
him,  and  his  whole  frame  seemed  chilled  to  the  marrow;  at  last, 
being  convinced  that  he  had  the  best  aim  possible,  he  pulled  the 
trigger,  his  old  "  trusty  "  bawled  out  its  certain  sound,  and  sent 
thundering  echoes  to  play  among  the  hills.  At  the  crash  of  the 
gun — which  was  heavily  loaded — the  beast  gave  a  spring  appar- 
ently twenty  feet  into  the  air,  with  the  yell  of  a  dying  demon,  and 
fell  heavily  back  to  the  ground  in  a  death  agony — the  terrible 
creature  had  met  and  succumbed  to  its  master,  and  that  immedi- 
ate region  had  been  cleared  of  its  terror  to  the  simple-minded 
sons  and  daughters  who  made  it  their  home. 

Snowden  did  not  inspect  the  "fruit  of  his  victory  "  until  morn- 
ing, when  he  found  that  he  had  struck  the  animal  squarely 
between  the  eyes;  it  was  a  sort  of  yellowish-gray  in  color,  with 
tremendous  legs,  claws  and  teeth,  and  a  monstrous  head.  He 
could  not  guess  accurately  of  its  weight,  but  it  measured  over 
nine  feet  in  length,  from  tip  to  tip,  and  although  furs  and  peltry 
were  extremely  low  in  the  market,  he  afterward  received  sixty-eight 
dollars  in  gold  for  its  skin  and  head. 

In  the  course  of  a  fortnight  after  he  had  killed  the  monster, 
Snowden  bethought  him  that  it  would  doubtless  be  welcome  news 
to  the  Indian  band,  who  had  been  driven  away  from  their  hunt- 
ing grounds  by  the  "bad  spirit  beast,"  to  know  of  its  death,  and 
to  know  that  probable  prosperity  would  again  be  their  portion, 
So,  he  resolved  to  visit  the  village,  and  carry  with  him  the  skin, 
head  and  paws  of  the  animal,  by  way  of  proof  to  them  that  the 
cause  of  their  melancholy  had  surely  been  removed.  The  skin 
he  had  already  dried  and  tanned,  as  well  as  prepared  the  head 
and  paws,  so  that  their  weight  was  not  greater  than  he  could 
pack.  Accordingly,  after  fixing  his  camp  in  good  shape  to  leave 
three  or  four  days,  and  putting  his  traps  into  proper  condition  he 


Sketches  of  the  West.  17 

set  out  one  clear,  frosty  morning  for  the  village.  By  taking  a 
direct  course  he  arrived  early  the  next  day,  and  when  he  inform- 
ed the  old  chief  and  his  band  of  the  destruction  of  their  enemy, 
and  spread  before  them  its  monster  skin,  head  and  ugly  paws, 
the  whole  village  became  well-nigh  frantic  with  rejoicing.  John 
Snowden  was  almost  worn  out  by  the  pulling  and  hauling 
they  gave  him  in  their  grateful  enthusiasm.  The  trophies  were 
hung  up  on  a  high  cross-stick  laid  in  upright  forks,  and  during 
the  remainder  of  that  day  and  all  the  following  night  the  Indians 
held  high  carnival  in  honor  of  the  mighty  white  hunter,  and  of 
the  victory  he  had  achieved  over  the  evil  beast  that  had  caused 
them  such  discontent.  They  danced,  beat  their  drums,  yelled 
and  gesticulated,  and  wound  up  the  festival  by  a  grand  dog  feast, 
Snowden  being  assigned  to  the  post  of  honor  at  the  mighty  ban- 
quet of  fat  dog.  The  old  chief  tendered  the  white  hunter  his 
daughter  in  marriage,  which,  in  a  delicate  way,  Snowden  declined. 
He  was,  however,  made  the  recipient  of  a  host  of  presents  from 
the  Indians,  such  as  prettily  ornamented  moccasins,  pipes, 
pouches,  and  beaded  belts,  while  the  chief  presented  him  with  a 
magnificent  robe  made  of  otter  skins.  The  band  immediately 
made  preparations  to  scatter  to  their  hunting  grounds  again,  and 
two  of  the  young  Indians  volunteered  to  accompany  the  white 
hunter  back  to  his  camp  to  assist  him  in  packing  his  trophy  and 
the  long  list  of  presents  that  had  been  forced  upon  him. 

It  is  probably  unnecessary  to  add  that  John  Snowden  never 
lacked  for  true  friends  and  admirers  among  old  Black  Otter's 
band  of  Chippewas.  It  will  doubtless  be  of  interest,  however  to 
know  that  a  few"  years  latter  he  did  marry  the  beautiful  daughter 
of  Black  Otter,  after  all,  and  is  now  a  successful  trader  at  one  of 
our  Noi'thwestern  Indian  agencies,  living  happily  with  his  now 
educated  and  accomplished  Indian  wife — once  called,  "Singing 
Water." 


JOHNNY  CUTTING. 

IN  the  year  1857,  long  before  a  railroad  was  built  from  St.  Pau 
to  the  head  of  Lake  Superior,  when  the  vast  region  lying  be- 
tween the  two  points  named  was  a  peculiarly  hideous  wilder- 
ness, the  writer  was  one  of  a  party  of  four  who  penetrated  that 
country  nearly  up  to  the  St.  Louis  River.  Our  object  was  recre- 
ation and  adventure.  At  Cross  Lake,  where  the  early  Catholic 
missionaries  for  a  long  time  conducted  an  Indian  mission,  we 
halted  for  a  month,  with  our  headquarters  not  far  from  the  old 
mission  buildings.  The  Indians  in  the  neighborhood  were  friend- 
ly, and  it  was  not  long  before  our  party  was  on  such  good  terms 
with  them  that  we  could  leave  our  camp  for  days  together  with- 
out finding  anything  disturbed  on  our  return.  From  this  point 
we  made  extended  trips  into  the  wilderness,  in  various  directions, 
taking  with  us  a  light  camping  outfit,  of  course  including  guns, 
compasses,  etc.,  and  carrying  enough  provisions  to  answer  for  the 
trip  in  view.  Sometimes,  however,  we  were  thrown  wholly  upon 
the  resources  of  the  country:  though  we  were  never  sorely  in 
want  of  provisions,  as  game  was  quite  plentiful,  and  we  killed 
many  deer  and  three  bears,  beside  considerable  smaller  game,  dur- 
ing our  month's  explorations. 

One  of  our  longest  trips  was  to  the  northwestward  of  Cross 
Lake,  in  making  which  we  came  one  day,  about  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon,  to  an  immense  windfall.  A  particularly  fierce  tornado 
had  passed  through  the  dense  forest,  uprooting  the  trees  and  pil- 
ing them  confusedly  in  a  ridge  that  extended  for  miles.  This 
windfall  was  the  greatest  and  most  difficult  to  cross  of  any  the 
writer  has  ever  seen,  though  we  have  observed  many  in  the  thick 


Sketches  of  the  West.  19 

pine  woods  of  the  far  northwestern  country. 

We  had  designed  going  some  distance  further  in  the  direction 
we  were  traveling:  and  though  the  huge  windfall  we  encountered 
was  a  barrier  not  easily  surmounted  by  men  with  tired  limbs  and 
heavy  packs,  v/e  resolved  to  cross  it  on  account  of  the  novelty  of 
the  experience,  as  well  as  forather  reasons.  The  point  at  which 
we  struck  the  windfall  was  in  a  dense  pine  growth  where  the  trees 
had  stood  to  a  great  size  and  height.  Their  trunks,  as  they  lay 
piled  upon  each  other,  were  as  white  as  bones,  and  formed  a  very 
high  ridge  about  twenty  rods  in  width. 

After  a  rest  of  half  an  hour,  a  little  luncheon  and  a  smoke,  our 
party  commenced  the  ascent.  In  our  clamber  we  met  with  not  a 
few  mishaps,  and  indulged  in  hearty  laughter  as  one,  then  an- 
other, of  the  party  would  go  tumbling,  pack  and  all,  away  down 
among  the  great  logs.  At  length  we  gained  the  summit,  the 
writer  having  the  good  fortune  to  reach  the  topmost  log  of  the 
ridge  a  trifle  in  advance  of  the  others,  and  to  his  utter  surprise 
he  met,  at  the  highest  point,  face  to  face  with  a  human  being,  who 
was  known  at  a  glance  to  be  certainly  not  an  Indian.  Both  were 
equally  astonished  at  the  sight  of  each  other:  for,  as  we  came  up 
simultaneously  to  the  same  log,  the  stranger  gave  a  sort  of  gut- 
teral  exclamation  of  surprise,  and  started  backward,  with  a  crit- 
ical look  and  a  decided  air  of  distrust.  He  was  not  over  five  feet, 
five  inches  in  height,  and  was  of  slight  figure,  though  he  evi- 
dently possessed  great  wiriness  and  agility,  with  a  capacity  for 
extreme  endurance.  He  had  a  small  beard,  yet  his  face  was 
strikingly  effeminate,  with  a  finely  cut  mouth  and  nose,  and  eyes 
that  were  wonderfully  expressive — a  pretty  dark  blue,  and  wear- 
ing a  look  of  saddest  cast.  His  hands  and  feet  were  extremely 
small  for  a  man,  and  his  entire  appearance  though  weather-beat- 
en and  sad-like,  betokened  refinement  of  person  and  character. 
His  hair — the  most  striking  feature  about  this  singular  being — 
though  evidently  little  cared  for,  hung  in  long,  brown  ringlets 
about  his  head  and  shoulders.  He  was  dressed  entirely  in  buck- 
skin, excepting  his  cap,  which  was  of  mink  fur  trimmed  with 
beads  and  porcupine  quills. 

Our  party,  on  reaching  the  place  of  meeting,  took  seats  on  the 
log,  while  the  mysterious  stranger  seated  himself  on  the  heavy 


20  Sketches  of  the  West. 

pack  he  had  been  carrying,  a  rod  distant.  For  a  moment  we 
looked  him  over  without  speaking  and  he  gave  each  of  us  a 
searching  look  from  head  to  foot.  The  writer  first  broke  the  sil- 
ence by  an  inquiry  as  to  who  he  was.  He  said  he  wasn't  anybody, 
and  returned  the  question.  We  briefly  informed  him  who  we 
were,  and  what  we  were  there  for — our  mission  in  that  region  be- 
ing nothing  in  particular.  He  asked  us  where  we  were  going; 
and  we  told  him  it  was  our  wish  to  go  in  the  direction  we  were 
traveling  as  far  as  the  upper  Kettle  River.  In  response  to  our 
questions  regarding  that  region,  and  the  exact  direction  to  it,  he 
informed  us  in  a  few  words  that  we  would  be  quite  the  opposite 
from  welcome  in  the  Kettle  River  country,  as  the  Indians  would 
consider  us  intruders  upon  their  hunting-grounds,  and  might  con- 
clude to  make  it  extremely  warm  for  us. 

This  man  did  not  seem  disposed  to  do  much  talking,  and  his 
mode  of  speech  was  decidedly  strange.  There  was  a  peculiar  cut- 
off to  every  sentence,  and  to  almost  evey  word.  We  judged  this 
to  be  owing  to  his  long  association  with  the  Indians,  as  in  his 
speech  there  was  the  gutteral  tone  common  to  most  Indian  lan- 
guages. In  reply  to  our  question  as  to  the  location  of  his  head- 
quarters, he  told  us  that  they  were  almost  anywhere,  but  that 
just  then  his  camp  was  three  miles  distant,  where,  as  it  was  near- 
ly night,  we  would  be  made  welcome,  if  we  chose  to  accompany 
him.  After  a  brief  consultation  we  determined  to  accept  his  in- 
vitation, because,  aside  from  a  desire  to  find  a  camp  already  made 
for  the  night,  we  had  a  strong  desire  to  learn  more  of  the  peculiar 
being  we  had  met  in  so  singular  a  manner  in  so  outlandish  a  part 
of  the  country. 

We  all  shouldered  our  packs,  and  were  soon  in  Indian  file,  fol- 
lowing our  guide  through  the  mossy  cranberry  marshes  and  over 
pine  ridges.  He  carried  a  pack  consisting  of  furs,  deer  skins, 
dried  meat,  and  a  few  blackened  and  battered  utensils,  the  whole 
weighing  nearly  one  hundred  pounds.  He  packed  in  true  Indian 
style.  The  bundle  was  secured  by  rawhide  thongs,  and  around, 
it  a  wide  belt  of  the  same,  which  he  passed  over  his  head,  allow- 
ing the  band  to  rest  on  his  forehead.  When  he  arose  to  his  feet 
the  pack  rested  at  the  small  of  the  back,  just  above  the  hips.  It 
was  a  perfect  wonder  to  our  party  to  see  a  person  of  so  slight  a 


Sketches  of  the  West.  21 

build  carry  such  a  load,  and  that,  too,  with  such  apparent  ease. 
He  traveled  fast,  and  halted  but  once  in  the  three  miles,  and  then 
for  a  moment  only,  whilst  the  strongest  man  in  our  party,  with 
but  half  the  load,  was  well-nigh  fagged  out  inkeeping  pace  with 
our  guide. 

We  found  his  camp  in  a  romantic  spot,  on  the  shore  of  a  small 
lake,  the  waters  of  which  were  clearer,  if  possible,  than  plate  glass, 
whence  flowed  a  beautiful  little  stream,  winding  down  through  a 
deep,  mossy  dell,  with  evergreens  along  either  bank,  and  bril- 
liant-colored vines  reflecting  their  varied  beauty  in  the  crystal- 
like water  below.  Both  lake  and  brook  were  inhabited  by  thou- 
sands of  lucious  trout.  His  camp  consisted  of  a  roomy,  birch- 
bark  wigwam,  in  which  there  were  evidences  of  scrupulous  neat- 
ness and  good  oder.  At  one  end  was  a  low,  wide  bunk,  and  the 
bed  was  wholly  made  of  skins  and  furs.  First  was  a  lot  of  dried 
grass,  gathered  from  the  neighboring  meadows;  on  the  top  of  this 
were  spread  sheets  made  of  deer-skins,  which  had  been  tanned 
after  the  peculiar  mode  of  the  Indians,  and  were  as  soft  as  velvet. 
At  the  head  was  a  large  pillow  filled  with  moss.  Over  all  were 
two  fur  spreads  or  robes,  which  had  also  been  tanned  so  as  to 
leave  them  pliable  as  a  woolen  blanket.  At  the  side  of  the  wig- 
wam was  a  rude  table  made  of  rawhide  stretched  over  stakes 
which  were  driven  into  the  ground.  Above  this  were  two  or 
three  ingeniously  constructed  shelves,  containing  various  articles. 
Of  the  latter,  some  bore  evidence  of  being  the  productions  of  civ- 
ilization, and  others  were  ingenious  and  pretty  specimens  of  the 
handiwork  of  native  women.  In  one  corner  were  arranged,  in  an 
orderly  way,  quite  a  number  of  steel  traps  of  various  sizes;  and 
close  by  was  a  receptacle  for  a  hunting-knife,  ammunition,  gun, 
tomahawk  and  other  implements  of  the  chase.  The  floor,  which 
was  the  ground,  was  covered  with  coarse  matting,  braided  from 
the  marsh-flag.  Two  or  three  rude  stools,  in  addition,  composed 
the  inside  furnishing  of  this  strange  abode.  In  a  hasty 
glance  at  the  articles  on  the  shelves,  we  discovered  a  small, 
cracked  mirror,  in  a  frame  of  bark,  a  dingy  copy  of  Scott's  Po- 
ems, and  three  or  four  other  very  smoky-looking  volumes,  and  a 
well  worn  picture  case,  but  we  did  not  venture  to  peer  inside  the 
dingy  case  to  see  what  picture  might  be  there  though  we  hazard- 


Sketches  of  the  West. 


ed  a  silent  guess,  which  several  years  afterward  we  found  to  have 
been  a  correct  surmise.  His  fireplace  was  outside,  and  directly 
in  front  of  the  aperature  which  served  as  a  door.  It  consisted 
of  two  forked  sticks  driven  into  the  ground,  with  a  pole 
across,  from  which  latter  an  extremely  ancient-looking  iron  ket- 
tle was  suspended  by  a  small  iron  chain.  This  kettle,  with  a 
broken  skillet,  a  dented  copper  vessel  and  a  birchen  bucket,  com- 
posed the  culinary  outfit. 

-  Seeing  we  were  tired,  our  entertainer  asked  us  to  enter  his  wig- 
wam and  rest,  whilst  he  prepared  some  supper.  We  complied: 
but  the  writer,  however,  after  resting  inside  for  a  few  minutes, 
volunteered  to  assist  in  preparing  the  meal.  After  starting  a 
fire  by  means  of  a  flint  and  steel  and  some  dry  spunk-wood,  the 
host  produced  from  behind  the  wigwam  what  he  called  his 
"trout-persuader,"  and  started  for  the  lake  beach.  This  con- 
trivance was  simply  a  net,  about  three  feet  square,  finely  and 
evenly  woven  from  the  fiber  of  a  water  plant,  and  stretched  on 
two  parallel  sticks,  held  in  position  by  two  crops  sticks,  lashed 
at  each  end  by  thongs  of  rawhide,  the  tension  being  ruch  as  to 
admit  of  the  net  bagging  down  slightly  in  the  middle.  It  was 
with  no  little  curiosity  that  we  followed  him  closely  to  the  shore 
of  the  lake,  to  see  how  he  could  capture  the  wary  trout  with  such 
a  contrivance;  and  indeed,  as  we  soon  saw,  no  ordinary  mortal 
could  have  succeeded  with  it.  He  motioned  us  to  remain  a  little 
back,  while  he,  taking  the  net  by  the  two  handles,  glided  softly 
along  a  small  bay,  driving  a  school  of  the  speckled  treasures 
quietly  before  him,  until  he  came  near  a  sharp  nook,  which, 
through  a  narrow  passage,  led  to  a  miniature  bay  within,  a  few 
feet  across.  When  the  school  was  about  opposite  the  entrance 
to  this,  he  made  a  quick  upward  and  outward  motion  of  the  net, 
and  simultaneously  with  this  he  leaped,  with  the  quickness  of  a 
flash,  and  set  his  net  nearly  perpendicular  in  the  mouth  of  this 
natural  trap.  Of  course,  the  fish,  recovering  from  their  first 
fright,  would  dart  instantly  for  deep  water  again,  but  not  until 
his  net  was  snugly  placed  in  their  way.  He  had  made  it  to  fit 
the  entrance  to  the  grotto  exactly,  and  when  the  trout  darted 
for  their  freedom  they  ran  into  the  bag  of  the  net,  and  the  next 
instant  found  themselves — a  dozen  or  more — landed  high  and  drv 


Sketches  of  the  West.  23 

upon  the  beach  by  another  motion  of  their  captor,  equal  in  quick- 
ness to  the  one  that  had  imprisoned  them. 

What  with  dried  meat,  chipped  up  and  stewed  in  the  iron  pot, 
trout  fried  in  deer's  marrow,  wild  rice,  the  iDread  our  party  car- 
ried, seasoned  by  the  keenest  of  appetites,  our  supper  and  break- 
fast with  this  lone  man  of  the  wilderness  were  among  the  most 
enjoyable  of  all  the  meals  we  ever  ate. 

After  supper,  as  we  all  reclined  about  the  camp-fire,  enjoying 
our  pipes — all  save  our  host,  who  said  he  never  used  tobacco  in 
any  form — we  essayed  to  draw  out  the  mysterious  stranger,  and 
ascertain  if  possible,  something  of  his  history.  This,  however, 
we  knew  to  be  a  dehcate  task,  as  his  manner,  though  extremely 
courteous  and  hospitable,  seemed  distant  and  reticent,  save  on 
topics  of  the  present.  Nevertheless  we  resolved  to  try,  though 
every  inquiry  was  put  in  the  most  casual  way  lest  we  should 
arouse  in  him  a  feeling  of  resentment,  or  a  suspicion  that  we 
intended  to  be  impertinent.  In  response  to  various  questions,  we 
were  informed  that  it  had  been  several  years  since  he  had  seen  a 
white  man:  that  he  never  went  out  to  the  trading-posts,  but  did 
his  trading  through  the  Indians;  that  he  was  thirty  years  of  age, 
and  had  entered  that  region  alone  when  a  very  j^oung  man,  and 
never  intended  to  abandon  the  wild  life  he  had  led  so  long — a  life 
of  constant  adventure  and  hardship,  with  no  companion  save  his 
gun,  and  holding  no  intercourse  with  the  human  family  save  the 
Indians  of  that  remote  region,  nor  often  with  them;  that  the  In- 
dians were  friendly  at  all  times  when  he  met  them:  that  his  name 
among  the  whites  was  John  Cutting,  but  that  the  Indians  had 
named  him  "  The  Silent  Walker." 

It  was  with  some  hesitation  that  he  told  us  his  parents  and 
relatives  were  among  the  first  families  of  central  Illinois,  and 
wealthy.  His  reason  for  abandoning  a  life  of  ease  and  luxury,  at 
an  age  when  he  was  just  entering  upon  the  joys  and  pleasures  of 
the  world,  he  declined  to  state. 

After  breakfast  in  the  morning  we  made  preparations  for  re- 
turning to  our  camp  at  Cross  Lake,  and  Cutting  said  he  would 
accompany  us  for  a  few  miles,  as  soon  as  he  could  put  his  camp 
in  order  and  get  a  few  things  packed  for  a  tramp:  that  he  was  go- 


24  S}:etches  of  the  West. 


ing  to  the  lower  Grindstone  River  on  a  trapping  expedition,  to  be 
gone  several  days. 

Accordingly,  an  hour  after  the  morning  meal,  we  all  started, 
with  him  as  our  guide  again.  Just  before  noon  we  reached  a 
trail,  by  taking  which,  Cutting  said  we  could  save  a  considerable 
distance,  and  pointing  in  the  direction  we  must  go,  without  say- 
ing a  word  he  grasped  each  one  of  us  warmly  by  the  hand,  turned 
sharply  to  the  left  of  our  course,  and  in  an  instant  more  "The 
Silent  Walker  "  had  disappeared  in  the  forest. 


Nearly  five  years  after  our  exploring  party  had  returned  from 
the  remote  region  of  the  St.  Louis  River,  the  tocsin  of  civil  war 
was  sounded,  and  thousands  of  the  young  men  of  the  country 
quickly  responded,  the  writer  of  these  pages  among  the  rest.  I 
— to  speak  in  the  first  person  singular — went  fifty  miles  alone  and 
on  foot  to  the  barracks,  found  the  commandant  and  mustering 
officer  promptly,  and  told  him  Idepired  to  enter  the  first  regiment 
from  my  State  as  a  private  soldier.  He  informed  me  that  my 
chance  was  hardly  good  even  in  the  last  company  of  the  pecond 
regiment,  so  rapidly  had  volunteers  poured  in  at  all  hours  during 
the  day  and  night.  Although  reluctant  to  join  any  but  the  regi- 
ment of  my  choice,  yet  enthusiastic  in  the  idea  of  serving  my 
country,  I  was  mustered  and  directed  to  report  for  duty  to  Capt. 

,  whose  quarters  in  a  certain  section  of  the  fort  were  pointed 

out  to  me.  Going  thither,  I  was  admitted  to  a  large  room  con- 
taining nearly  a  hundred  new  recruits.  All  was  bustle  and  con- 
fusion. The  captain  gave  me  a  suit  of  "regimentals,"  knapsack 
and  blanket,  and  the  orderly  sergeant  assigned  me  to  a  bunk 
with  another  recruit  in  the  quarters,  and  I  found  him  engaged 
in  fixing  up  the  bed.  As  I  stepped  forward  he  turned  about, 
looking  me  squarely  in  the  face,  as  if  to  see  what  sort  of  a  chum 
had  been  given  him.  The  recognition  was  mutual  and  almost 
instantaneous — my  bunk-companion  was  none  other  than  Johnny 
Cutting,  "  The  Silent  Walker."  To  say  that  each  was  astonished 
be^'ond  measvire  at  this  second  strange  meeting,  but  feebly  ex- 
presses it:  and  that  night  we  talked  long  and  freely  concerning 
matters  that  mutually  interested  us. 

Cutting  seemed  to  consider  himself  verv  fortunate  to  have  met 


Sketches  of  the  West. 


some  one  whose  face  he  had  seen  before:  and  during  the  time 
that  followed,  although  he  was  ever  courteous  and  obliging  to  all 
his  companions  in  arms,  he  was  never  known  to  converse  with 
those  about  him  much  more  than  the  rules  of  war  demanded,  ex- 
cepting with  the  writer,  whom  he  always  sought  to  be  near,  and 
to  whose  mess  he  was  always  sure  to  belong. 

No  man  in  the  Union  army  was  a  better  soldier  than  Johnny 
Cutting.  He  always  kept  his  clothing  clean  and  orderly,  his  gun 
and  equipments  bright  and  ready  for  use  at  an  instant's  notice. 
He  was  was  orderly  to  an  extreme:  and  his  example  in  the  com- 
pany w^as  more  potent  in  enforcing  good  order  and  dicipline  than 
the  scowls  of  an  exacting  officer.  When  the  long  roll  was  sound- 
ed, calling  the  regiment  to  arms,  night  or  day,  he  was  sure  to  be 
the  first  to  report  on  the  company's  parade  ground,  in  perfect 
readiness  for  battle.  I  never  saw  a  man  who  was  as  quick,  and 
yet  undemonstrative,  in  his  motions  as  he,  nor  a  soldier  who  per- 
sistently sought  to  be  at  the  fi-ont  in  every  danger  and  hardship 
that  presented,  of  which  there  was  no  lack.  His  favorite  place 
was  on  the  picket  line,  and  his  commander  was  not  long  in  learn- 
ing his  value  in  the  most  responsible  position  of  a  soldier — that 
of  a  picket  in  front  of  the  enemy. 

Little  by  little,  and  in  a  disconnected  way,  I  learned  the  story 
of  Johnny  Cutting's  life:  and  it  was,  in  its  beginning,  the  old, 
old  story,  of  love  and  disappointment. 

He  was  the  son  of  a  wealthy  Illinois  farmer.  From  childhood 
he  had  grown  up  in  company  with  Mary  Allen,  the  sweet,  blue- 
eyed  daughter  of  a  near  neighbor.  They  had  attended  school 
together,  from  the  days  of  their  a,  b,  c's  until  they  had  graduated 
with  honor  from  the  best  institution  of  learning  in  that  part  of 
the  State.  They  had  spent  their  vacations  mostly  in  each  other's 
company,  and  their  hearts'  tendrils  had  become  so  entwined, 
that  to  part  them  would  be  worse  than  death  itself — at  least  to 
the  warm  and  devoted  nature  of  Johnny  Cutting.  The  story  of 
his  love  may  be  a  short  one,  though  no  number  of  strong  words 
could  do  more  than  justice  to  a  man  with  such  a  heart  and  nature 
as  his — true  to  every  instinct  of  nobility  and  honor,  with  an  un- 
wavering fidelity  to  all  convictions  of  right,  and  whose  affection, 
once  bestowed,  was  placed  forever  and  unretrievably. 


26  Sketches  of  the  West. 

When  Mary  Allen  weakened  in  her  love  for  Johnny  Cutting, 
and  in  the  daze  of  an  hour  gave  way  to  the  blandishments  of  a 
fashionably -dressed  and  jewel-bespangled  sprig  from  the  city, 
who  spent  his  summer  vacation  in  the  neighborhood,  she  blasted 
the  life  of  one  she  knew  to  be  her  equal,  and  whose  love  for  her 
had  so  increased  in  the  course  of  their  many  years  of  companion- 
ship as  to  attain  a  strength  and  tenderness  which  the  trials  of 
a  life-time  could  not  tarnish. 

Alone,  in  her  father's  grounds,  beneath  the  twinkling  stars, 
they  met  for  the  last  time,  and  the  very  rose-leaves  let  fall  their 
dewy  tears  as  she  told  him  of  her  perfidous  rejection  of  his  hand 
for  that  of  another.  Without  a  word  of  reproach,  he  passed  down 
the  avenue  into  the  road,  his  frame  quivering  like  an  aspen  in  a 
storm.  As  he  closed  the  gate  he  turned  around  and  halted  but 
for  an  instant,  to  catch  one  more  glimpse  of  her  who  had  been  the 
idol  of  his  life.  With  uncovered  head  he  waved  her  a  parting 
kiss,  exclaiming  in  a  husky  voice.  "God  bless  you,  Mary,  my 
darling!  Farewell  forever!"  And  he  was  lost  to  Mary  Allen's 
sight  for  all  time. 

He  hastily  bade  adieu  to  his  parents,  telling  them  he  contem- 
plated a  trip  to  the  northwestern  part  of  the  country.  Packing 
together  a  few  things,  and  placing  his  savings  in  his  purse,  he 
embarked  on  a  Mississippi  river  steamer,  buying  a,  ticket  for  the 
young  city  of  St.  Paul,  at  which  place  he  turned  his  back  for- 
ever, as  he  intended,  upon  his  own  race. 

Almost  at  the  very  outbreak  of  the  war  he  chanced  to  hear  the 
story  of  the  attack  on  Fort  Sumter,  and  became  aware  of  the  cer- 
tainty of  a  gigaotic  civil  war.  He  sat  musing  by  his  camp-fire 
the  entire  night  upon  the  stirring  news  he  had  heard,  by  the  mer- 
est chance,  through  a  trader  who  was  making  a  trip  through  that 
region,  and  whom  he  had  met  at  a  gathering  of  Indians  assem- 
bled for  traffic.  By  morning  his  decision  w^as  reached.  He  gave 
all  his  effects  to  an  old  Indian  family,  they  having  nearly  always, 
through  their  attachment  for  him,  camped  in  his  vicinity,  moving 
their  camp  whenever  he  moved  his,  from  one  section  of  that  wil- 
derness region  to  another.  He  started  the  day  following  that  on 
which  he  had  received  the  news,  and  in  three  days  travel  he 
reached  Fort  Snelling,  and  was  mustered  into  the  armv  but  an 


Sketches  of  the  We^t. 


hour  or  two  in  advance  of  the  writer.  He  had  determined,  dur- 
ing his  night-revery  far  away  in  the  wilderness,  to  do  the  only 
thing  left  him  to  do,  of  any  value  to  himself  or  others  in  the 
world,  by  placing  himself  at  the  disposal  of  his  country  in  her 
hour  of  need,  and  if  needs  be  lay  his  life  upon  her  altar. 

His  regiment  passed  through  many  battles,  and  suffered  its  full 
share  of  the  hardships  and  casualties  of  the  field,  and  Johnny 
Cutting  stood  in  the  front  rank  of  his  command  without  the  loss 
of  an  hour  from  duty.  He  had  been  in  the  thickest  of  many  a 
bloody  battle,  and  come  out  with  scarcely  a  scratch.  He  sought 
the  hottest  of  the  fight,  steadily  and  cooly  loading  and  firing,  while 
in  the  use  of  the  bayonet  his  quickness  of  movement  and  unwav- 
ering courage  made  him  a  terrible  adversary. 

At  the  desperate  battle  of  Mission  Ridge,  the  Union  army  had 
to  charge  up  the  bold  range  of  hills  in  an  endeavor  to  get  a  foot- 
ing on  the  uplands,  where  the  Confederate  army  was  massed  in 
great  force.  The  Federals  were  repulsed  again  and  again  in  their 
terrible  and  heroic  efforts  to  capture  the  Confederate  batteries 
poo'ted  along  the  brink  of  the  ridge  which  were  dealing  death  in 
all  directions  among  the  bluecoats  in  the  plain  below. 

The  day  wore  on  in  its  terrible  work,  and  the  hillsides  and  val- 
ley were  thickly  strewn  with  the  dead  and  the  dying:  but  the 
heights  were  taken,  and  about  the  Confederate  batteries  the  final 
struggle  ensued.  The  after-spectacle  told  plainly  the  tale  of  the 
carnage  and  the  stubbornness  with  which  the  enemy  had  defend- 
ed their  guns.  The  depleted  ranks  of  the  Federals  needed  no 
explanation  of  what  the  victory  had  cost  them,  as  the  storm- 
ing regiments  bivouacked  on  the  field  of  blood. 

Among  the  dead  gathered  for  interment  the  next  day,  the  hero 
of  this  sketch  was  found,  with  many  other  bodies,  on  the  verge 
of  a  ledge  which  he  and  his  companions  had  scaled.  He  lay 
calmly  as  if  in  a  pleasant  trance,  his  blue  eyes  gazing  upward 
in  death,  and  his  lips  parted  as  with  a  smile;  He  was  laid  ten- 
derly in  a  soldier's  red-stained  grave,  where  he  rests  in  a  hero's 
last  slumber.  He  had  given  his  love  to  a  heartless  one,  and  his 
affections  were  blighted.  He  gave  his  life  to  his  country,  and 
now  wears  a  patriot's  crown. 


AN  EARLY-DAY  TRIP— NO.  1. 

EARLY  in  our  fifteenth  year  we  had  succeeded  in  persuading 
our  paternal  parent  to  permit  his  prematurely  ambitious 
son  to  "Go  West."  After  obtaining  his  consent,  we  could 
not  "wait  a  minute,"  but  must  be  off  at  once — in  the  latter  part 
of  February.  Accordingly,  after  packing  into  a  capacious  car- 
pet-bag a  very  plain  wardrobe,  as  well  as  several  very  "useful 
books  " — including  a  Holy  Bible,  Pilgrims'  Progress,  etc., — we 
gripped  our  weighty  sack,  bade  adieu  to  parents,  and  our  many 
brothers  and  sisters,  clambered  aboard  the  old  stage  coach,  and 
waved  a  farewell  to  the  old  farm,  the  brook,  and  the  hills  and 
valleys  of  western  Pennsylvania,  and  started  on  what  to  us  was  a 
literal  "leap  in  the  dark."  That  was  in  1855.  Railroads  were 
not  then  so  numerous  nor  so  well  regulated  as  now,  and  even  a 
railroad  trip  to  the  far  West  was  a  journey,  the  thought  of  which 
was  calculated  to  cause  a  shudder  to  run  over  full  grown  ilien,  in 
the  rural  districts  of  old  eastern  communities.  They  never  un- 
dertook the  trip  alone,  and  even  when  a  venturesome  trio  started 
off,  they  were  considered  regular  heroes  by  all  their  old  neighbors 
and  friends. 

We  started  away  fully  resolved  to  reach  the  then  new  and  lit- 
tle heard  of  country  known  as  "Minnesota  Territory;"  and,  with 
our  tw^enty  six  dollars — more  dollars  than  we  had  ever  before  seen- 
congregated  together — we  felt  sure  we  could  get  to  Minnesota 
Territory,  and  have  money  enough  left  to  buy  considerable  of  the 
Territory,  beside:  but,  as  we  afterward  learned,  this  was  a  mis- 
take. 


Sketch ei^  of  the  Went.  29 

We  had  never  before  been  out  of  the  county  in  which  we  were 
raised,  had  never  seen  a  raih-oad,  knew  no  more  of  the  ways  of 
the  world  than  we  did  of  the  moon,  and  didn't  know  the  differ- 
ence between  a  city  and  a  water-melon  patch,  or  between  a  hotel 
and  a  haystack,  as  it  were. 

In  due  time  we  arrived  at  the  town,  thirty  miles  away,  where  the 
railroad  was  reached,  and  having  arrived  a  coaple  of  hovirs  in  ad- 
vance of  the  train,  we  carried  our  weighty  sack  around  the 
streets,  or  sat  upon  it  near  the  wonderful  railroad- and  contem- 
plated the  astonishing  character  of  the  iron  road,  and  speculated 
greatly  as  to  how  the  cars  could  "  stick  onto  "  such  a  thing,  how 
they  looked,  etc.  At  last,  we  heard  the  roar  of  the  approaching 
train,  and  as  it  grew  louder  and  louder,  and  approached  nearer — 
but  was  hidden  from  view  by  a  sharp  curve  near  the  depot — our 
knees  began  to  knock  together  with  fear  and  excitement,  and  the 
bag  was  so  heavy  that  we  could  scarcety  lift  it.  In  a  moment  the 
locomotive  came  roaring  and  plunging  around  the  curve  into 
plain  sight,  and  very  near,  and  we  felt  exceedingly  like  an  orphan 
without  friends,  as  w^e  contemplated  for  the  first  time  a  train  of 
cars:  and  when  the  engine  came  up  and  blew  a  terrible  blast  on 
the  first  steam  whistle  we  ever  heard,  we  felt  pretty  sure  the 
whole  thing,  including  the  train,  the  depot,  the  railroad  the  peo- 
ple, ourself  and  in  all  probability  the  whole  world  had  been  ex- 
ploded, and  were  going  to  eternal  slam-bang.  After  running 
clear  around  the  depot,  clinging  to  our  only  treasure,  however, 
we  saw^  that  the  people  didn't  seem  to  think  there  was  anything 
particularly  wrong,  and  so  we  calmed  down  a  little — though  we 
really  wished  ourself  at  home,  where  things  were  run  with  less 
clash  and  thunder. 

After  figuring  out  where  the  proper  entrance  to  the  car  w^as,  w^e 
made  a  bold  push,  and  soon  were  ensconsed  in  a  corner-seat,  with 
our  grip-sack  carefully  guarded  between  our  feet;  our  greatest 
fear  was  that  some  of  our  books  might  be  stolen,  and  particularly, 
that  our  Bible  or  Pilgrims'  Progress  might  in  some  mysterious 
way,  go  astray  on  us:  hence,  we  were  either  hanging  onto  our 
'grip'  or  else  sitting  on  it,  all  the  time. 

Soon  the  cars  started,  and  were  shooting  along  at  a  fearful 
rate  of  speed,  and  we  felt  sure  we  must  be  dashed  to  pieces:  the 


30  Sketches  of  the  West. 

trees,  fences  and  all  objects  flew  past  as  if  shot  out  of  a  gun,  and 
all  we  could  do  at  times  was  to  shut  our  eyes,  hold  tightly  to  our 
treasure,  and  mentally  repeat,  "  Good  Lord,  have  mercy  on  us." 

A  man  soon  came  along  and  demanded  our  money,  and  we  gave 
it  to  him;  he  said  it  would  be  five  dollars  to  Mansfield,  and  that 
was  as  far  as  he  could  ticket  us;  he  said  the  train  arrived  at  Mans- 
field about  midnight,  and  that  we  could  be  ticketed  from  there 
to  Toledo,  but  would  have  to  stay  over  at  Mansfield  until  the 
next  evening,  when  we  could  go  forward. 

At  Mansfield  the  hackmen  got  hold  of  us,  and  it  was  a  fight 
for  life,  among  them  to  keep  from  going  crazy,  and  maintain  pos- 
session of  our  carpet-bag;  after  ourself  and  our  bag  had  been 
pulled  and  hauled  around  among  about  twenty  shouting  hotel 
villains,  one  burly  fellow  picked  both  ourself  and  our  treasure  up 
bodily  and  chucked  us  into  his  hack,  locked  the  door,  and  drove 
off.  We  were  now  terribly  frightened,  and  fully  believed  we  had 
been  kidnapped  and  were  being  driven  off  to  some  cave  where  we 
would  be  robbed  of  our  books  and  clothing,  as  well  as  our  money, 
and  then  murdered.  We  rehearsed  with  great  rapidity,  over  and 
over  again,  all  the  prayers  we  knew,  and  would  gladly  have  con- 
tributed liberally  for  the  foreign  missions  if  there  had  been  any- 
one to  pass  the  hat;  we  did  everything  that  seemed  good,  as  we 
were  jostled  around  the  dark  hack  in  which  w^e  were  imprisoned. 

After  a  time,  to  our  great  relief  the  conveoance  stopped  in  front 
of  a  well-lighted  'tavern,' and  the  driver  opened  the  door,  and 
after  telling  us  to  give  him  twenty -five  cents,  told  us  that  was 
his  tavern  and  to  go  in  and  stay  all  night.  We  went  in  and  hesi- 
tatingly took  a  seat  in  a  shaded  corner  on  our  carpetbag  after 
feeling  it  over  to  find  out  if  any  of  our  books  had  been  stolen  in 
the  scrimmage,  or  our  treasure  had  been  otherwise  damaged. 
We  took  a  general  survey  of  the  place,  and  felt  sure  we  must 
have  been  ushered  into  a  king's  palace,  so  grand  did  every  thing 
look.  Pretty  soon  a  young  man,  with  a  beautiful  moustache, 
and  gold  shirt  buttons  came  to  us  and  asked  who  and  what  we 
were.  We  frankly  told  him  our  whole  story,  when  he  laughed 
heartily,  as  he  remarked:  "I  guess  you  have  never  traveled 
much,  young  man?  "  We  told  him  we  had  traveled  a  good  deal 
within  the  last  twentv-four  hours:  that  if  we  traveled  many  more 


Sketches  of  the  West.  31 

days  like  we  had  the  last  day  we  should  be  worn  out,  or  torn  to 
pieces.  He  paid  it  would  cost  us  two  dollars  to  stay  at  the  hotel 
until  the  Toledo  train  went  out  the  next  evening,  and  that  he 
would  show  us  our  room  where  we  could  go  to  bed.  We  thought 
that  was  a  tremendous  amount  of  money  for  the  privilege  offered, 
but  not  knowing  what  else  to  do,  we  followed  him  to  a  room,  and 
went  to  bed.  We  did  not  retire,  however,  until  we  had  taken  an 
account  of  stock  in  our  grip-sack,  to  see  that  our  books  and  other 
property  were  all  right,  and  counted  over  our  money,  which  we 
found  had  shrunken  at  a  fearful  rate:  but,  having  no  adequate 
conception  of  the  great  distance  to  be  traveled,  nor  the  thousand 
and  one  additional  demands  that  would  be  made  upon  us,  we  did 
not  fear  but  that  we  had  even  yet  sufficient  wealth  to  get  us 
through  to  St.  Paul. 

Daylight  found  us  out  of  bed,  and  after  taking  a  careful  invoice 
of  stock  again  we  went  down  stairs,  and  the  landlord — noticing 
that  we  were  a  clear  case  of  "buckwheat" — kindly  proposed 
that  he  would  take  care  of  our  baggage  until  the  train  started, 
and  relieve  us  from  its  constant  care:  he  promised  to  put  it  under 
lock  and  key  for  us,  and  so  we  took  the  chances,  and  after  break- 
fast started  out  through  the  town  to  see  the  sights. 

After  wandering  around  for  an  hour  or  so,  reading  the  wonder- 
ful signs,  and  beholding,  with  mouth  agape,  all  the  wonderful 
things  in  the  store  and  shop  windows,  we  came  to  a  place  where 
a  man  had  an  immense  "  whirligig,"  from  the  long  arms  of  which 
were  suspended  wooden  horses,  carriage-seats,  etc.,  upon  which 
one  could  ride,  so  many  times  round,  for  ten  cents,  and  could 
ride  astride  of  one  of  the  horses  or  in  a  carriage-seat,  as  he  chose. 
A  large  crowd  of  idle  men  and  cheering  street  boys  were  present, 
and  whenever  the  owner  got  his  horses  and  seats  full,  he  would 
start  his  machine  and  away  would  go  the  whole  twenty  cheering, 
yelling  riders,  until  a  hundred  rounds  had  been  passed,  when  the 
thing  would  pull  up  and  a  fresh  load  be  taken  aboard,  or  the 
same  riders  would  go  again  by  repeating  the  ten-cent  part  of  the 
program. 

Of  course,  this  just  beat  anything  we  had  ever  heard  of,  and  it 
did  not  take  long  to  convince  us  that  ten  cents  would  be  well 
invested  in  a  hundred  trips  around  this  sweeping  swing,  and  one 


32  Sketches  of  the  West. 


of  the  beautiful  wooden  horses  was  ovir  choice,  by  a  large  ma- 
jority. 

We  climbed  onto  a  dapple-grey  horse,  paid  our  dime,  and  soon 
all  the  seats  were  full  and  the  swing  started;  we  had  forgotten 
that  even  a  ride  in  a  common  swing  made  us  deathly  sick — much 
less,  one  of  these  flying  circular  contrivances — and  before  we  re- 
membered this,  and  discovered  that  we  were  on  a  machine  which 
was  ten-fold  more  "■sickening"  than  a  common  swing,  it  was 
going  so  fast  that  to  jump  off  would  have  been  death  or  broken 
limbs,  and  we  soon  discovered  to  our  horror  that  we  were  in  for 
what  would  probably  prove  a  ride  of  ruin,  so  far  as  we  were  con- 
cerned. We  tried  to  yell  to  the  proprietor  to  stop  and  let  us  off, 
but  the  din  and  clatter  drowned  our  voice:  we  swung  our  hat  at 
him,  and  motioned  vvith  our  legs,  in  the  most  desperate  manner, 
but  all  to  no  purpose,  and  we  resigned  ourself  to  our  fate,  and 
devoted  our  fast  "failing  health"  to  the  task  of  hanging  on  to 
our  dapple-grey  horse.  Very  soon  the  horses,  and  the  whole 
world  was  whirling  like  a  buz-wheel,  and  we  could  scarcely  hold 
to  our  wooden  horse:  pretty  soon  we  leaned  forward  and  hung  on 
with  both  hands  locked  about  our  horse's  neck,  whilst  groans  of 
agony  were  sent  out,  as  our  contribution  to  the  general  jubilee, 
and  the  whole  crowd  sent  up  a  howl  of  delight  at  the  sight  of  our 
grief.  We  have  read  of  the  agonies  of  seasickness,  and  how 
landlubbers  fairly  threw  up  their  boots  over  the  bulwarks,  but 
we  beg  leave  to  assert  that  the  worst  case  of  seasickness  recorded, 
either  in  history  or  out  of  it,  was  a  season  of  perfect  bliss  com- 
pared with  oar  ride  on  that  w^hirligig:  such  retching  and  bodily 
contortions:  such  awful  sensations,  as  we  went  round  and  round, 
wanting  to  die  and  yet  clinging  to  our  horse  for  fear  we  should 
fall  off  and  be  dashed  in  pieces.  But  everything  has  an  ending, 
and  that  ten  cent  ride  also  ended  after  what  seemed  an  age  of 
agony,  and  we  rolled  off  and  lay  limp  as  a  rag  on  the  ground — our 
hat  gone,  our  jeans  pants  ripped,  our  hair  all  over  our  face  which 
had  grown,  alternately,  ashen  and  blue.  We  became  unconscious, 
and  after  an  hour  we  awoke  and  found  ouiseif  in  a  grocery,  with 
a  doctor  administering  mild  stimulants  with  a  tea-^poon.  After  a 
time  the  groceryman's  boy  showed  us  the  way  to  the  hotel,  where 
we  weie  glad  to  find  that  our  carpet-bag  was  safe,  and  for  three 


Sketches  of  the  West.  .33 

or  four  hours  we  lay  on  the  bed,  at  the  end  of  which  time  the 
world  ceased  whirling  around,  our  nerves  became  settled,  and  a 
cup  of  tea  and  a  piece  of  toast  kindly  sent  us  by  the  landlord, 
put  our  internal  fixtures  into  a  pacified  and  somewhat  improved 
condition;  so  that  at  the  hour  of  departure  we  were  enabled 
to  take  full  command  of  our  grip-sack  once  more.  The  landlord 
in  his  generosity,  said  he  guessed  we  had  had  a  rough  enough  ex- 
perience in  Mansfield,  and  did  not  charge  us  anything  for  our 
stay.  From  that  day  to  this  we  cannot  think  of  one  of  those 
machines  without  feeling  sick  at  the  stomach,  and  to  see  one  in 
motion  actually  throws  us  into  a  spasm,  to  this  day. 

After  stammering  out  our  thanks  to  the  kind  host,  we  found 
the  depot  after  a  deal  of  inquiry  along  the  streets,  found  the 
place  to  buy  a  ticket  to  Toledo,  and  got  aboard  the  right  car, 
after  boarding  two  or  three  wrong  ones,  and  came  near  being  run 
over  by  a  switch-engine.  After  getting  ourself  and  our  baggage 
safely  stowed  away  in  a  corner,  we  looked  over  our  money,  and 
found  we  had  fourteen  dollars  and  sixty  cents  of  a  balance  on 
hand;  but,  thinking  Toledo  couldn't  be  very  far  from  St.  Paul, 
we  consoled  ourself,  and  during  the  night  that  followed  we  curled 
down  on  toj)  of  our  "grip,"  and  wore  away  the  weary  night  by 
snoozing  and  dreaming  of  riding  on  that  whirligig,  and  morning- 
found  us  shrunken  in  frame,  troubled  in  spirit  and  haggard  in 
appearance. 

We  an-ived  in  Toledo  in  a  cold,  ch-izzling  rain,  and  succeeded 
in  escaping  the  hackmen,  with  our  property,  after  having  been 
nearly  pulled  in  two,  and  started  up  through  the  dreary,  muddy 
town,  looking  cautiously  along  for  some  one  with  a  benevolent 
face  of  whom  we  could  inquire  when  and  where  we  could  start 
for  Chicago.  Our  load  seemed  very  heavy,  and  it  was  with  diffi- 
culty we  could  carry  it.  Finally  an  old  peanut  man  showed  us 
the  steam-ferry  upon  which  we  should  have  to  cross  the  harbor 
to  the  Chicago  depot.  By  watching  the  big  folks  after  crossing 
the  harbor  on  the  boat,  and  by  a  good  deal  of  inquiry,  we  finally 
found  ourself  aboard  the  Chicago-bound  train,  with  but  five 
dollars  and  thirty-five  cents  left.  So  intense  had  been  our  con- 
cern, that  it  was  not  until  noon  that  we  remembered  not  having 
anything  to  eat,  except  the  toast  and  tea,  since  the  morning  pre- 


34  Sketches  of  the  West. 

vious;  and  at  Michigan  City  we  went  into  a  coffee-house  near  the 
depot  and  ate  twenty  cents  w^orth  of  bread  and  coffee,  and  bought 
five  cents'  worth  of  peanuts. 

Near  midnight  we  landed  in  Chicago,  amid  a  howling  mob  of 
hotel -runners,  rain,  mud  and  snow,  with  no  more  idea  where  we 
were — aside  from  the  name — than  if  dropped  into  another  world. 
By  an  inquiry  we  had  made  on  the  cars,  we  learned  the  fare  frgm 
Chicago  to  Galena  was  just  five  dollars — Galena  was  the  most 
northerly  p^int  on  the  Mississippi  River  then  attainable  by  rail- 
road. 

After  asking  many  questions,  and  receiving  many  a  heartless 
rebuff,  and  derisive  reply,  we  finally,  by  almost  superhuman  exer- 
tion, in  packing  our  load,  found  a  hotel,  nearly  a  mile  from  the 
depot,  where  we  timidly  entered,  and  seated  ourself  on  our 
carpet-sack  in  the  shade  of  one  of  the  great  pillars  in  the  pala- 
tial office  of  the  large,  brilliant  iiotel — one  of  the  best  and  largest 
in  the  city.  We  were  exceedingly  weary,  and  by  this  time  had 
fully  concluded  that  our  money  must  run  out  long  ere  reaching 
our  destination,  and  this  fact  began  to  weigh  heavily  upon  our 
spirits;  we  w^ere  not  only  ashamed  to  beg,  but  were  afraid  to  let 
our  destitute  condition  be  known — imagining  that  our  plight  was 
the  first  and  only  similar  misfortune  that  had  ever  befallen  any 
one;  we  shrank  from  the  thought  of  making  it  known,  and  fully 
determined  to  go  until  the  last  penny  was  expended,  and  then 
trust  to  Providence  for  the  balance. 

It  was  not  long  after  entering  the  hotel  before  all  the  guests 
had  retired,  and  we  were  discovered  by  the  man  on  duty  in  the 
place,  who  approached  us  and  in  a  gruff  voice  demanded: 

"Here  you  young  rooster,  what  are  you  doing  here — you'd 
better  carry  yourself  out  of  here  in  less'in  a  flyin'  minute!  " 

We  seized  our  satchel,  and  with  a  terrible  sense  of  guilt,  or 
something  of  a  similar  feeling,  we  made  for  the  doorway  as  fast 
as  possible:  but,  turning  and  giving  the  man  a  frightened  look, 
he  seemed  to  relent,  and  in  a  milder  tone  called  out: 

"  I  say,  boy,  hold  on  a  minute."  We  stopped  on  the  threshold, 
when  he  continued:  "Come  back  here  and  tell  me  w^hat  you 
are  doing  around  here,  anyway." 

We  hesitatingly  sank  into  a  chair  near  where  he  was  standing, 


Sketches  of  the  West.  .35 


and  in  answer  to  his  questions  told  him  who  we  were,  and  whither 
we  were  bound.  Apparently  being-  convinced  of  our  honesty,  he 
said  we  could  occupy  a  chair  until  morning,  and  told  us  when 
the  Galena  train  started  out — at  eight  o'clock — and  gave  us 
a  general  idea  of  the  direction  of  the  depot,  though  he  said  it  was 
nearly  two  miles  distant.  Thanking  him  for  his  kindness,  we 
"■  snuggled  down  '"  into  the  big  chair,  with  our  sack  on  our  knees, 
and  enjoyed  an  uneasy  kind  of  sleep  until  daylight,  when  we 
shouldered  our  more  weighty  than  valuable  property  and  started 
out  to  find  the  depot. 

By  dint  of  great  labor,  we  found  it  barely  in  time,  and  our  gen- 
eral appearance  was  much  the  same  as  when  we  got  through 
with  our  ride  at  Mansfield.  In  our  rambles  in  search  of  the 
Galena  depot  we  had  passed  through  the  hands  of  a  couple  of 
burly  newsboys,  who  seemed  to  feel  it  their  religious  duty  to  give 
us  a  complete  walloping;  our  concern  was  not  so  great  for  our- 
self  as  for  our  glazed  carpet-sack,  which  we  had  saved  only  by 
great  bravery  induced  by  desperation;  the  poor  grip-sack  was 
worse  used  up  than  ourself  when  we  reached  the  depot,  having 
one  side  kicked  in,  our  precious  books  badly  jammed,  and  one  of 
the  handles  of  the  sack  torn  off.  At  the  depot  we  paid  all  our 
money  for  a  ticket  to  Galena  excepting  ten  cents,  and  left  Chic- 
ago with  many  a  heart-ache  as  to  what  was  liable  to  happen  next, 
for  our  special  edification,  with  a  dozen  sore  spots  contributed  by 
the  newsboys,  and  a  very  poor  idea  of  Chicago  hospitality  in  gen- 
eral. During  the  day  we  got  out  our  needle  and  thread  and,  so 
far  as  possible,  made  a-meiich  in  our  wardrobe  and  reconstructed 
our  poor  dilapidated  baggage. 

We  had  nearly  all  day  to  reflect  upon  how  we  were  "  getting  on 
in  the  world,"  and  finally  convinced  ourself  that  during  the 
three  days  we  had  been  "a  traveler  in  strange  lands,"  we 
had  learned  more  than  in  all  the  rest  of  our  life — in  fact  we 
felt  that  we  had.  We  also  learned  by  overhearing  others  talk, 
that  the  upper  Mississippi  River  was  yet  closed  by  ice,  and  would 
be  for  several  weeks  to  come:  that  Galena  was  a  miserable  town 
in  which  to  remain  until  navigation  opened:  that  Dubuque  was 
a  much  finer  city  in  which  to  sojourn,  but  that  the  only  way  just 
at  that  season,  to  get  from  Galena  to  Dubuque  was  to  traverse  a 


36  Sketches  of  the  West. 


wild  region  of  country  a  distance  of  eighteen  miles,  to  Dunleith, 
and  there  cross  the  river  to  Dubuque  on  the  Iowa  side,  on  the 
steam  ferry,  which  would  cost  ten  cents.  We  had  just  that 
amount  of  money  left,  but  how  were  we  ever  to  reach  Dunleith? 
Already  two  days  with  scarcely  anything  to  eat,  and  another  day 
and  night  lying  between,  with  our  sacred  property,  weighing 
some  twenty-five  pounds,  and  with  which  we  would  no  sooner 
think  of  parting  than  of  losing  our  right  hand — especially  with 
our  "  good  books."  And,  right  here,  we  propose  to  relate  one  of 
the  most  noteworthy  cases  of  physical  endurance  we  ever  heard 
of,  before  or  since. 

We  can  scarcely,  even  to  this  day,  explain  what  it  was  that 
kept  us  from  at  least  asking  for  something  to  eat:  but,  we  had, 
in  our  "greenhorn  "  innocence,  become  impressed  with  the  idea 
that  all  humanity  had  turned  enemies  to  us:  retiring  and  modest 
at  that  age — since  outgrown,  however — to  the  greatest  possible 
degree,  and  withal  posessed  with  a  self -pride  and  a  self-respect 
which  formed  an  insurmountable  barrier  to  our  begging,  even 
had  we  not  considered  it  positively  dangerous  to  ask  for  anything 
without  paying  all  that  was  required:  and  of  course,  our  early 
training  had  been  of  the  kind  that  taught  us  that  it  w^as  far  bet- 
ter to  die  than  to  take  even  the  most  trifling  thing  without  the 
knowledge  of  its  owner.  Thup,  amid  a  most  terrible  condition  of 
the  roads  and  the  worst  possible  winter  weather,  we  arrived  at 
Galena  some  time  after  dark  of  a  black  and  terribly  stormy  night, 
and,  by  following  in  the  wake  of  the  crowd — for  more  than  a 
mile,  from  the  end  of  the  unfinished  railroad  into  the  town — 
through  mud  and  snow  knee  deep,  we  at  last  found  ourself  in  the 
office  of  the  principal  hotel  in  the  place,  completely  wet,  bedaubed 
in  mud,  and  weary  and  faint  in  the  extreme. 

Here  we  met  with  some,  to  us,  decidedly  new  features  in  our 
eventful  journey.  The  hotel  was  literally  jammed  full  of  travel- 
ers, adventurers,  and  all  sorts  of  men,  and  among  the  rest  twenty 
Winnebago  Indian  chiefs,  who  had  reached  there  the  day  before 
on  their  retui-n  from  Washington,  whither  they  had  been  on  a 
tr  'aty  tour.  We  had  never  seen  an  Indian  before,  and  when  we 
suddenly  found  ouvself  in  the  midst  of  a  great  crowd  of  these 
stalwart,  painted,  feather-bedecked  and  blanketed  warriors,  with 


Sketches  of  the  West.  37 

knives,  tomahawks  and  war-clubs  lashed  to  them,  we  certainly 
felt  that  life  with  us  was  to  be  only  a  brief  season  of  human  and 
scalped  misery.  But,  although  in  continual  fear  of  them  all  of 
that,  to  us,  most  dreadful  night — for  we  were  thoroughly  read  up 
in  Indian  massacres  and  other  atrocities — we  jBnally  concluded 
that  by  keeping  in  a  shady  corner,  and  conducting  ourself  with 
the  greatest  possible  decorum,  we  might  be  spared,  for  we  noticed 
that  the  white  guests  were  very  familiar  with  them,  and  the 
Indians  seemed  to  be  in  a  pleasant  mood. 

Supper-time  came,  and  the  guests  were  summoned  by  a  fellow 
beating  frantically  on  a  terrible  gong:  we  had  never  before  heard 
one  of  these  tumultuous  carnage-dispensers,  and  it  just  about 
frightened  what  little  life  we  yet  possessed,  clear  out  of  us.  Of 
course^  we  were  only  too  glad  to  be  allowed  to  remain  inside, 
without  daring  to  even  look  into  the  room  where  the  steaming 
viands  sent  out  their  luscious  odors,  to  only  aggravate  our  starv- 
ing sensations. 

It  was  late  when  all  the  guests  had  retired,  and  the  savages 
spread  their  blankets  about  on  the  office  floor,  all  around  us,  and 
alternately  slept,  talked  in  their  singular  tongue,  or  smoked  their 
pipes,  until  the  room  was  filled  with  smoke.  There  we  sat, 
finally,  all  alone  with  these  armed  red  skins,  afraid  to  even  move, 
and  watching  their  every  movement  through  all  that  weary  and 
painful  night. 

Morning  eventually  arrived,  after  a  seeming  age,  and  such  a 
morning!  It  had  snowed  nearly  a  foot,  on  top  of  the  almost 
bottomless  mud,  and  was  dark  and  murky  overhead.  Breakfast 
was  announced,  the  guests  all  responded  gayly  to  the  call  of  the 
gong,  after  having  their  morning  dram  at  the  bar,  and  we  almost, 
at  one  time,  made  up  our  mind  to  ask  the  clerk  for  something  to 
eat:  but  our  heart  failed  us  and  we  did  not  do  it.  We  could  see 
that  the  town  was  a  repulsive  looking  place,  and  as  we  had  heard 
a  dozen  or  more  of  the  men  agree  to  undertake  the  trip  through 
to  Dubuque  on  foot,  despite  the  horrible  condition  of  the  roads, 
we  resolved  to  follow  in  their  wake,  though  we  had  also  heard 
them  describe  the  route  as  lying  through  a  barren,  wild  and  deso- 
late country. 

After  breakfast  they  fixed  themselves  completely  for  the  trip; 


38  Sketches  of  the  West.  \ 

long  boots,  unincumbered  by  luggage  to  speak  of,  they  filled 
their  flasks  with  stimulants,  their  cases  with  cigars,  and  finally 
all  started  in  high  spirits  through  the  mud  and  snow^,  with  the 
writer  at  a  respectful  distance  in  the  rear,  with  our  carpet-bag 
an  a  short  stick  across  our  shoulder. 

We  had  no  more  than  entered  the  barrens  in  rear  of  the  town 
when  we  began  to  realize  that  our  undertaking  was  a  most  des- 
perate one,  with  such  a  load,  and  in  our  condition,  but  still  some- 
thing seemed  to  impel  us  forward  through  the  mud  and  snow, 
nearly  knee  deep.  We  seemed  to  feel  that  if  we  could  only  reach 
Dubuque,  it  would  be  vastly  better,  because  it  would  be  just  fo 
much  further  on  our  journey,  and  could  not  but  prove  a  more 
desirable  place  than  Galena  in  which  to  seek  employment. 

For  a  distance  of  three  or  four  miles  we  kept  close  to  the  well- 
fed  travelers,  though  none  of  them  deigned  to  notice  us,  save  to 
occasionally  turn  about  and,  with  a  laugh,  yell  out,  "  Hurry  up, 
Bub,  or  the  wolves  will  make  a  dinner  of  you,  sure!  "  and  "  jolly 
remarks  "  of  a  similar  character.  After  a  time  we  began  to  fall 
to  the  rear,  and  finally  in  spite  of  our  efforts  to  keep  up,  they 
passed  out  of  sight  entirely.  We  shall  not  attempt  to  fully  por- 
tray our  experiences  during  the  remainder  of  that  day,  for  Fuch 
experiences  are  beyond  the  power  of  pen  or  pencil.  With  nothing 
to  eat  for  nearly  three  days,  save  the  little  lunch  two  days  previ- 
ously, we  now  found  ourself  in  the  midst  of  a  wilderness,  alone, 
starving,  and  weighed  down  with  a  load  too  great  for  even  a 
strong  man  to  carry  over  such  roads.  After  traveling  until 
nearly  noon,  as  we  imagined,  we  fell  exhausted  in  the  snow,  and 
lay  almost  unconscious  for  a  time,  when  we  aroused  again,  and 
struggled  on,  with  only  a  desperate  resolution  as  our  last  support. 
We  knew,  every  time  we  fell,  which  grew  more  and  more  frequent 
as  the  day  wore  on,  that  if  we  lay  until  our  joints  became  stiff- 
ened and  set — and  they  seemed,  finally,  to  be  growing  solidly  to- 
gether— that  we  should  perish  through  sheer  helplessness,  or 
speedily  be  devoured  by  the  wolves  which  were  abundant  then  in 
that  wild  region.  So,  v/ith  all  the  horrors  of  our  situation  pic- 
tured before  our  eyes,  we  would  scarcely  more  than  fall  to  the 
ground  ere  we  would  begin  the  struggle  to  get  up  again.  Our 
feelings  can  neither  be  conceived  or  described:  and  our  ghastly 


Sketches  of  the  West.  39 

and  crazed  appearance  must  have  corresponded  well  with  our 
awful  physical  sensations. 

We  must  have  been  a  picture  of  insane  distress  when,  just  be- 
fore dark,  we  reached  the  wharf  at  Dunleith,  and  staggered 
aboard  the  steam  ferry,  that  was  just  pulling  out  for  her  last  trip 
across  the  great  river  for  the  day.  In  a  moment  after  starting, 
and  as  we  stood  leaning  against  the  rail,  the  collector  came  around 
and  we  gave  him  our  last  dime,  and  then  staggered  along  into 
the  low  cabin,  dropped  our  sack  on  the  floor,  fell  prone  upon  a 
long  bench,  and  all  consciousness  was  suddenly  blotted  out. 

Up  to  this  time  our  trip  had  certainly  been  an  eventful  one, 
and  one  in  which  human  endurance  had  been  tested  to  the  quick. 
But  fourteen  years  of  age,  and  small  for  our  age:  tw^o  days  and  a 
half  and  two  nights  without  even  a  morsel  of  food  of  any  kind, 
and  scarcely  any  sleep,  and  on  the  last  day  made  a  march  with  a 
load,  and  through  a  country,  and  over  a  road  that  would  have 
been  very  trying  to  even  a  strong  and  well-fed  man.  We  have 
always  considered  that  trip  a  thorough  proportionate  test  of  what 
a  human  being  can  endure,  under  the  most  desperate  circum- 
stances, and  still  remain  on  the  earthly  side  of  the  dark  valley. 

When  we  first  realized  wfiere  we  were,  after  passing  into  un- 
consciousness on  the  steamer,  we  found  we  had  been  carried  to 
the  City  Hotel,  in  Dubuque,  by  direction  of  some  kind-hearted 
gentleman  who  saw  us  fall.  Lying  on  a  sofa  in  a  beautifully-fur- 
nished apartment,  with  a  waiter  and  physician  seated  near  us, 
apparently  watching  with  deep  interest  the  result  of  the  trial,  the 
particulars  of  which  they  as  yet  knew  nothing.  The  first  thing 
we  remember  to  have  spoken  was  an  inquiry  concerning  our 
precious  grip-sack,  and  the  waiter  assured  us  it  was  safe  in  the 
office  of  the  hotel — oh,  that  precious  property!  It  was  near 
morning,  and  the  doctor,  after  seeing  us  safely  revived,  left  med- 
icine to  be  given  us,  and  said  he  would  call  again  during  the  day. 
We  could  not  move  even  a  muscle,  much  less  a  limb,  and  it  was 
almost  a  week  before  we  could  walk  about — in  the  meantime  hav- 
ing suffered  greatly. 

The  landlord — whose  name  we  have  forgotten — had  inquired 
into  our  history,  and  assured  us  that  we  should  be  taken  care  of 
until  the  upper  river  opened,  and   then  he  would  see  that  some 


/ 

/ 

40  Sketches  of  the  West. 

way  was  provided  for  our  reaching  St.  Paul:  and  when  we  were 
able,  he  said  he  had  some  light  duties  about  the  hotel  which  we 
could  do  for  him.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  as  soon  as  possible, 
we  proved  a  faithful  servant  to  our  kind  and  generous  benefactor. 

After  two  or  three  weeks  we  again  took  sick,  and  for  some  time 
the  balance  between  life  and  death  quivered  dubiously;  our  wiry 
constitution,  however,  finally  triumphed,  and  we  again  became 
convalescent.  This  was  the  spring  when  the  cholera  broke  out 
all  along  the  river  with  such  terrible  fatality,  and  every  steamer 
that  came  from  below  was  loaded  with  death  in  its  most  horrible 
form. 

The  landlord  finally  told  us  one  morning  that  if  we  were  bent 
upon  going  through  to  St.  Paul,  the  steamboat  "Hamburg"  would 
be  in  some  time  during  the  day  and  her  old  master.  Captain 
Estes,  being  a  warm  personal  friend  of  his,  he  would  introduce 
us  to  him,  and  request  him  to  set  us  down  in  St.  Paul  as  safe  and 
sound  as  circumstances  would  permit,  which  he  felt  sure  he 
would  do. 

Accordingly,  when  the  Hamburg  arrived  our  noble  friend 
consigned  us  and  our  grip-sack  to  the  care  of  Captain  Estes  and, 
with  real  feeling,  asked  him  to  look  after  our  welfare,  which  the 
bluff,  kind-hearted  old  skipper  most  heartily  promised  to  do — 
the  grand  old  steamer  Hamburg  "  sleeps  '*  at  this  day  at  the  bot- 
tom of  Lake  Pepin,  near  the  Minnesota  shore,  and  not  far  above 
the  legendary  and  famous  Maiden's  Leap:  where  the  bones  of  old 
Captain  Estes  now  rest  we  know  not,  but  we  heartily  pray  that 
"  he  sleeps  well,"  wherever  may  be  his  tomb. 

Though  other  steamers  which  had  come  from  below  were 
freighted  with  death,  the  Hamburg  could  certainly  claim  the 
palm  in  that  matter,  and  our  slow  trip  up  the  river  was  a  \eri- 
table  journey  of  death.  At  every  landing,  a  greater  or  less 
number  of  dead  were  put  ashore  from  among  the  four  or  five 
hundred  passengers,  and  at  every  woodpile  corpses  were  hastily 
interred  in  shallow  and  unmarked  graves  by  the  deck-hands.  At 
the  then  young  town  of  La  Crosse,  we  painfully  remember,  there 
were  seven  brothers  and  sisters  laid  side  by  side,  on  the  wharf, 
with  their  dead  mother,  and  when  the  boat  pulled  away  we  beheld 
— the  last  object  we  saw  beneath  the  weird  light  of  the  boat's 


Sketches  of  the  Went.  41 

flickering  torches — the  frantic  father  and  husband,  the  only  sur 
vivor,  wailing  over  his  "  loved  ones  gone,"  through  the  horrors  of 
cholera,  to  another  land  from  the  one  they  had  started  for,  with 
such  hopes  and  promise  for  the  future. 

Captain  Estes  was  indeed  very,  very  kind;  his  solicitude  for  our 
safety  and  care  was  all  that  the  fondest  father  could  have  be- 
stowed, and  although  we  drifted  speedily  into  the  first  stages  of 
the  dreadful  disease  that  was  constantly  claiming  new  victims  by 
the  score,  he,  with  his  great  experience,  doctored  us  and  watched 
our  condition  so  closely,  that  he  battled  away  the  disease,  so  that 
when  we  reached  St.  Paul,  though  but  a  respectable  skeleton,  we 
had  safely  passed  the  point  of  danger,  and  afterward  regained  our 
wonted  health  and  vigor,  through  the  influence  of  the  grand  and 
salubrious  climate  of  Minnesota. 


Jfe 


AN   EARLY-DAY  TRIP— NO.  2. 

AFTER  spending  a  year  and  a  half  among  the  Indians  and 
early-day  flatboatmen  of  the  Minnesota  River  Valley — also 
called  in  those  days,  St.  Peter  River — our  conscience 
began  to  prick  us,  because  we  had  left  the  hearthstone  of  our 
parents  at  so  young  an  age,  and  felt  that  we  had  only  remained 
at  home  until  we  had  barely  ceased  to  be  a  charge,  and  ought  to 
have  remained  a  few  years  longer  and  endeavored  to  work  out  a 
"bill  for  our  early  keeping,"  that  in  the  light  of  reason,  as  we 
began  to  view  it,  stood  recorded  against  us.  We  felt,  in  fact,  as 
though  we  had  not  acted  fairly  by  our  kind  parents,  who  had 
devoted  the  best  days  of  their  lives  to  our  care  and  training,  and 
we  resolved  to  lose  no  time  in  returning  to  the  humble  homestead 
of  our  father  and  tender  him  our  services.  We  probably  would 
never  have  thought  of  this  sin  of  omission  of  which  we  stood  self - 
charged,  but  for  the  fact  that  we  had  grown  extremely  home- 
sick, and  longed  for  the  familiar  scenes  of  our  childhood.  This 
fact,  we  have  no  doubt,  had  a  big  influence  in  bringing  us  to  a 
sense  of  duty,  and  quickening  within  us  the  spark  of  filial  effec- 
tion. 

During  the  year  and  a  half  spent  in  the  wilds  of  Minnesota,  we 
had  learned  but  little  of  the  ways  of  the  world,  save  what  could 
be  gleaned  in  the  cook-house  of  a  Minnesota  River  flatboat,  whilst 
serving  up  pork,  beans,  tea,  and  gray-colored  biscuit  for  a  crew 
of  Frenchmen,  who  talked  all  the  time  night  and  day,  but  who 
never  spoke  English  excepting  when  they  desired  us  to  under- 
stand that  it  was  time  for  us  to  draw  a  bucketful  of  whiskey 
from  a  barrel  of  the  Government  supplies — in  those  days  most  of 


Sketches  of  the  West.  43 

the  freight  boated  up  the  river  consisted  of  government  goods  for 
the  frontier  military  posts  and  Indian  agencies — and  turn  in  a 
bucketful  of  river  water  to  make  whole  the  contents  of  the  barrel. 
Still,  being  of  a  somewhat  observing  turn  of  mind,  we  learned 
some  things,  while  others  were  forced  upon  our  mind,  regardless 
of  any  natural  disposition  on  our  part  to  gather  in  "points." 
We  learned  all  about  how  flatboating  was  done  on  a  difficult 
river  in  a  new  and  untamed  and  unsettled  country,  particularly 
the  mysteries  of  furnishing  the  most  wretched  victuals  from  the 
raw  material — the  position  of  chief  caterer  being  the  only  degree 
in  the  art  of  flatboating  that  our  years  or  muscle  would  at 
that  time  permit  us  to  become  a  recognized  master  in .  It  was 
a  most  charming  spectacle  to  see  the  magnificent  soups  we  dished 
up  for  the  French  crew,  by  boiling  a  ten  pound  chunk  of  fat  salt- 
pork  all  afternoon  in  a  sheet-iron  kettle,  and  served  up  in  tin 
dishes.  There  would  be  about  three  or  four  inches  of  clear 
grease  to  be  eaten  off  before  they  reached  the  pure  brine  below. 
But  they  always  complimented  our  pork-soup,  or  bouillon,  as 
being  extremely  fine;  aside  from  the  oil,  it  would  be  so  salty  that 
a  single  mouthful  of  it  would  have  turned  the  stomach  of  Lot's 
wife  inside  out,  even  though  she  had  become  solid  on  the  salt 
question.  But  we  cannot  now  go  into  the  details  of  a  flatboat- 
man's  life  on  frontier  waters,  because  it  would  require  the  latitude 
of  a  small,  volume  to  do  justice  to  the  life  and  experiences  of  a 
jolly  fiatboatman  in  those  early  days,  on  the  murky  bosom  of  the 
mosquito-bound  and  Indian-hampered  shores  of  the  Minnesota 
River. 

Late  in  the  autumn  of  1856,  found  us  a  passenger  on  a  down- 
river steamer,  with  a  wardrobe  which  w^as  a  cross  between  that 
worn  by  a  river-rat,  and  an  average  Indian  boy,  with  a  hollow- 
sided  grip-sack — our  precious  books  had  some  time  before  suc- 
cumbed to  various  influences,  including  wind  and  weather — with 
some  seventy  or  eighty  dollars  in  our  breeches  pocket,  as  the  net 
proceeds  of  eighteen  months  on  the  ragged  edge  of  civilization. 

As  the  Christmas  snow  was  falling  in  great  soft  flakes,  only  to 
melt  on  the  wet  and  muddy  earth,  a  lone  juvenile  might  have 
been  seen,  in  the  uncertain  light  of  late  evening,  approching  his 
childhood's  humble  home,  guided  by  familiar  spots,  toward  the 


44  Sketches  of  the  Went. 

cheerful  light  that  glowed  from  the  window  out  upon  the  beauti- 
ful night  scene.  This  home  was  the  paternal  headquarters  so 
much  longed  for,  and  we  the  juvenile  prodigal  returned  from  dis- 
tant wanderings  in  a  strange  country.  Our  unlocked  for  entrance 
to  the  family  circle,  created  a  convulsion  of  all  the  family  ele- 
ments, which  jarred  the  hearthstone  from  center  to  circumfer- 
ence. 

The  following  morning  we  "explained  our  position,"  and  tried 
to  make  our  parents  understand  how  much  we  had  suffered  in 
mind  at  having  left  them  at  so  premature  an  age,  and  without  even 
offering  our  services  on  the  farm,  for  six  years  or  during  our  mi- 
nority; but  they  did  not  seem  to  realize  that  they  had  sustained 
any  very  serious  loss:  or  if  they  had,  the  loss,  either  past  or  pros- 
pectively, had  not  broken  in  upon  their  minds  with  any  very 
great  shock,  as  yet.  The  old  gentleman  suggested  that  we  attend 
school  during  the  winter,  at  the  log  school-house  in  the  hollow, 
and  in  the  spring  we  should  be  at  liberty  to  continue  our  observa- 
tions on  the  borders  of  the  Far  West,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned. 
But,  indeed,  by  the  time  spring  had  arrived,  we  needed  no  admon- 
ition to  again  set  our  face  toward  the  Land  of  the  Dakotahs.  If 
our  longing  to  return  home  was  severe,  our  anguish  to  get  started 
West  again  was  infinitely  more  severe,  and  all  we  learned  that 
winter  at  the  log  school-house  was  to  forget  a  good  deal  of  what 
we  knew  before — as  we  stared  vacantly,  our  eyes  on  the  enchant- 
ing pages  of  a  Cobb's  spelling-book,  and  our  mind  away  in  the 
great,  free  Northwest,  amid  the  fascinating  scenes  of  the  wild  life 
with  which  we  had  been  surrounded  in  the  time  of  our  absence. 

Springtime  came  at  last,  and,  accompanied  by  a  great  stalwart 
production  of  those  rural  haunts,  much  older  than  ourself,  named 

Jake   S ,  we   again,   and   for  the  last  time,  turned  our  back 

upon  the  rocky  glens  and  mossy  hillsides  of  our  native  hether. 

Of  course  we  claimed,  and  Jake  cheerfully  conceded  us,  the 
honor  of  being  "  master  of  ceremonies  "  in  the  travels  that  lay 
before  us,  and  we  resolved  on  this  trip,  to  travel  wholly  by  river, 
taking  passage  at  Pittsburgh.  By  this  time  we  flattered  ourself 
that  we  knew  a  thing  or  two  about  travel,  and  the  ways  of  the 
earth,  although  it  was  not  many  moons  later  that  we  found  there 
were  at  least  a  few  things  we  had  not  before  discovered. 


Sketches  of  the  West.  45 

Jake  was  emphatically  verdant  in  all  things,  and  was  just  at 
that  age  when  he  was  neither  attractive  nor  convincing  in  his 
presence,  and  even  when  addressed,  he  could  not  possibly  drawl 
out  the  simplest  answer  until  his  questioner  had  "  long  since  " 
forgotten  what  it  was  he  asked  him.  In  short,  both  in  appear- 
ance and  manner,  Jake  was  one  of  the  worst  specimens  of  turnip- 
sheller  that  ever  emigrated  from  the  Allegheny  spurs. 

Arriving  at  Pittsburgh  in  due  time,  we  found  a  steamboat 
bound  for  St.  Louis,  and  thereon  we  took  passage,  and  were  as- 
signed to  a  stateroom  located  immediately  forward  of  the  larboard 
wheel.  She  was  a  large  boat,  and  had  in  tow  two  immense 
barges  loaded  with  railroad  iron.  She  left  port,  too,  crowded 
with  passengers,  mostly  families  and  young  men  seeking  homes 
and  fortunes  in  the  far  west — most  of  them  bound  for  Kansas. 
There  were  so  many  people  on  board,  that  the  cabin,  as  well  as 
the  lower  deck,  was  crowded  uncomfortably,  and,  with  her  heavy 
tow  of  barges  the  boat  made  the  passage  down  the  Ohio  and  up 
the  Mississippi  to  St.  Louis  a  very  slow  and  tedious  one. 

After  buying  our  tickets,  Jake  and  ourself  had  fifty  dollars, 
between  us,  with  which  to  pay  our  way  from  St.  Louis  to  St. 
Paul.  We  had  scarcely  gotten  out  of  sight  of  Pittsburgh  ere  one 
of  the  passengers  fell  overboard — literally  crowded  off  the  lower 
deck — and  was  drowned  before  he  could  be  reached  by  the  small 
boats;  and,  during  the  whole  trip  there  were  seven  of  the  pas- 
sengers dropped  into  the  river,  at  different  points,  and  lost.  All 
this,  with  the  prevalence  of  a  good  deal  of  sickness,  resulting  in 
several  deaths,  among  the  emigrants,  made  the  "voyage"  of 
about  ten  days  to  St.  Louis  one  to  be  remembered,  aside  from  the 
many  other  accidents  that  transpired,  which  were  calculated  to 
harrow  up  the  souls,  and  try  the  bravery  of  two  such  precious 
greenhorns  as  Jake  and  ourself — particularly  Jake. 

Immediately  after  leaving  Pittsburgh  our  traveling  companion 
began  to  show  signs  of  distress,  and  took  to  his  bed  largely.  It 
only  required  a  day  or  two  to  prove  the  cause  of  his  indisposition. 
He  had  been  taken  down  with  the  mumps!  and  he  had,  too,  the 
"  most  complete  set  "  of  mumps  we  ever  beheld.  His  face  was 
naturally  short  and  round,  covered  over  with  a  straggling 
"  stumpy  "  beard,  and  in  a  couple  of  days  his  face  was  about  two 


46  Sketches  of  the  West 

feet,  horizontally,  with  a  perpendicular  elevation  of  about  six 
inches.  When  Jake's  jaws  began  to  "spread,"  he  felt  better, 
somewhat,  and  spent  some  time  out  of  his  room — which,  by  the 
way,  was  a  most  uncomfortable  place  even  for  a  well  person.  It 
was  close,  and  the  infernal  carnage  of  the  great  wheel  made  one's 
hair  stand ;  and  it  seemed  as  though  we  were  liable  to  be  cru  shed 
by  it  every  moment;  it  was,  no  doubt,  a  room  that  had  been  re- 
spectfully dictated  to  the  use  of  "  greenhorns  "  ever  since  the  day 
when  the  old  hulk  was  launched,  because  no  other  class  would, 
for  a  moment,  consent  to  pay  as  much  as  those  who  occupied  the 
finest  quarters,  and  then  try  to  live  in  such  a  cavernous  bedlam 
as  ;that  narrow  niche,  directly  against  the  damp  and  roaring 
wheel. 

Jake's  mumps  grew  to  such  immense  proportions,  that  he 
could  scarcely  pass  through  the  narrow  door  of  his  room,  with- 
out turning  his  "  complaint "  edgewise;  and,  when  he  first  made 
his  entree  among  the  passengers  in  the  cabin,  there  was  a  com- 
motion probably  never  equaled  since  the  "  confusion  of  tongues  " 
at  the  building  of  the  Tower  of  Babel.  We  cannot  describe  the 
utter  grotesqueness  of  Jake's  appearance;  the  swelling,  aside 
from  making  his  face,  from  right  to  left,  a  perfect  terror  to  look 
upon,  had  extended  all  over  his  face,  nearly  closing  his  eyes,  and 
turning  his  nose  almost  the  "  other  end  up,"  beside  drawing  his 
mouth  until  it  seemed  to  reach  nearly  from  one  ear  to  the  other; 
imagine,  then,  an  extremely  short  neck,  and  you  may  be  able  to 
get  a  very  faint  idea  of  poor  Jake's  general  appearance  when  he 
wore  mumps. 

The  boyish  pride  of  the  writer  was  being  perpetually  wounded , 
because  Jake  could  not  think  of  being  separated  from  us  for 
scarcely  a  moment;  and  when  Jake  and  ourself  would  enter  the 
cabin,  we  became  the  center  of  universal  attraction — though  it 
was  simply  the  eyes  of  all,  that  were  attracted,  whilst  the  general 
anatomy  of  the  average  passenger  would  fiy  from  our  approach 
as  though  we  carried  a  small-pox  hospital  in  every  pocket.  Un- 
feeling persons  would  laugh  immoderately  at  Jake's  appearance, 
and  pass  all  sorts  of  remarks,  even  going  so  far  as  to  suggest  that 
it  would  be  a  mercy  to  drown  him;  and  they  would  also  inquire 
of  the  writer,  in  all  apparent  sincerity,  if  we  were  engaged  in  col- 


Sketches  of  the  West.  47 

lecting  curiopities  for  Barnum.  As  often  as  the  weather  and  cir- 
cumstances would  permit,  we  w^ould  bundle  Jake  up  and  get  him 
on  the  upper  deck,  where,  with  the  hot  smokestacks  on  one  side 
of  him,  and  the  blazing  sun  on  the  other,  endeavor  to  thaw  out 
his  mumps  and  reduce  the  swelling.  We  are  not  positive  as  to 
w^hether  our  original  remedy  proved  effecacious  or  not;  but  cer- 
tain it  was  that  he  improved  under  our  treatment  rapidly,  and  by 
the  time  Cincinnati  was  reached  we  had  gotten  Jake's  face  pretty 
w^ell  shrunk  up  again.  We  had  never  enjoyed  a  run  of  mumps 
ourself,  and  although  w^e  expected  to  become  a  victim,  we  did 
not,  nor  have  we  ever  had  them  since.  But,  ere  we  left  the  boat 
at  St.  Louis,  Jake  and  ourself  had  the  supreme  satisfaction  of 
noticing  that  from  forty  to  fifty  of  our  fellow-passengers,  w^ho  had 
been  our  tormentors  on  the  trip,  were  beginning  to  grow  finely, 
around  the  jaws,  and  the  sight  of  the  pickles  on-  the  tables  would 
set  them  all  to  groaning,  and  to  heaping  imprecations  loud  and 
deep  upon  the  head  of  the  "  original  baboon  "  who  gave  them  the 
pains  they  were  just  beginning  to  enjoy. 

The  boat  remained  at  Cincinnati  all  day,  and  Jake  and  ourself 
concluded  to  look  the  town  over  a  little,  and  so  started  out.  After 
w^alking  up  and  down  several  of  the  principal  streets — the  writer, 
meantime,  keeping  in  sight  some  general  landmarks,  that  we 
might  not  lose  our  bearings — we  took  a  notion  to  treat  ourselves 
to  a  card  of  ginger-bread,  some  peanuts  and  an  orange — the  lat- 
ter, neither  one  of  us  had  ever  tasted.  But  the  smallest  money 
we  had,  being  a  ten-dollar  note,  we  determined  to  drop  into  the 
first  bank  w^e  came  to  and  have  it  exchanged  for  small  bills.  In 
a  few  minutes  we  came  to  a  bank,  and  whilst  Jake  stood  leaning 
up  against  the  door-case,  curiously  gazing  about  the  elegant 
apartment — Jake  had  never  seen  a  bank  before,  save  a  sand-bank 
or  a  coal-bank — the  writer  put  on  an  extreme  business  air,  ap- 
proached the  cashier's  counter,  threw  down  our  ten-dollar  note, 
and  asked  him  to  give  us  some  small  bills  for  it.  He  took  up  the 
note,  glanced  his  eye  over  it,  held  it  up  to  the  light,  and  then 
laid  it  down  on  the  counter.  He  gave  us  a  look  that  nearly  froze 
our  blood;  then  he  looked  at  Jake,  and  that  seemed  to  settle  it. 
He  took  down  a  little  whistle  from  behind  his  desk,  sprang  over 
he  counter  to    the  door,  and  blew  it  vigorouslv  as  he   remarked, 


48  Sketches  of  the  West. 


"  I  guess  this  will  prove  a  clue  to  some  of  this  trouble;  and  in  less 
than  a  minute,  in  rushed  two  men  dressed  in  blue  uniforms,  with 
clubs  in  their  belts  and  had  both  of  us  by  the  coat-collars  in  a 

jiffy. 

"Now,  officers,"  said  the  banker,  "take  these  two y^ung  scoun- 
drels to  the  lock-up,  and  as  the  court  is  now  open,  and  I  have  the 
proof  of  their  character  here  in  my  hand,  I  will  be  up  in  half  an 
hour  and  have  them  examined  before  dinner." 

So  saying,  the  officers  tightened  their  grip  and  literally 
"snatched"  us  out  to  the  sidewalk,  and  started  up  the  street 
with  two  as  sorry-looking  and  terrorized  young  "buckwheats" 
as  probably  were  ever  seen  in  any  city  or  country.  The  whole 
proceeding  was  so  short  and  positive,  and  burst  upon  us  so  sud- 
denly, that  our  tongues  were  tied  by  the  apparent  horror  of  our 
situation,  and  for  a  time  both  of^us  were  utterly  speechless.  At 
last  Jake,  who  was  ahead,  exploded;  and,  amid  a  flood  of  tears, 
he  made  out  to  screw  his  head  around  far  enough  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  our  own  staring  eyes  and  gaping  mouth  and  remark: 

"Boo-hoo-oo! — aw-aw!  Oh,  bwa-haw-oo-oo!  Oh,  what's  the 
— baw-hoo-wah! — matter  with  us  now? — wah-baw-hoo!" 

About  that  time  the  officer  gave  him  a  twitch  that  not  only  cut 
off  further  communication,  but  lifted  his  heels  up  about  as  high 
as  where  his  mumps  were  usually  located.  Taking  Jake's  rear 
elevation,  as  he  was  marched  along  up  the  street,  as  a  starting 
point  from  which  to  judge  character,  and  he  really  did  look  like 
a  "  hard  ticket."  The  officer  had  a  whole  handful  of  his  thin 
and  somewhat  slouchy  checked  coat  gathered  up  into  a  hand- 
hold, together  with  his  shirt  and  "galuses,"  and  when  he 
yanked  Jake  around  to  stop  his  blubbering,  it  seemed  to  draw  his 
coat-tail  and  shirt  up  toward  his  collar,  and  the  strain  upon  his 
yarn  suspenders  drew  his  pant-legs  clear  above  his  boots.  As  for 
ourself ,  we  were  no  less  frightened  than  our  agonized  companion ; 
but  had  we  been  on  our  way  to  the  gallows,  we  could  not  have 
suppressed,  inward  laugh,  at  the  utterly  ludicrous  sight  Jake 
presented  as  he  passed  along  on  his  way  to  the  police  station. 

Reaching  the  station,  the  officers  put  us  into  a  small  room,  that 
seemed  to  be  the  wood-room  of  the  establishment,  and  after 
searching  us  for  "tools"  or  weapons,  they  went  out,  locking  the 


Sketches  of  the  West.  i9 

door  after  them.  We  never  ean  forget  the  hour  we  spent  in  that 
room,  consulting  upon  the  situation.  The  writer  believed  the 
cause  of  our  trouble  was  that  the  bill  we  gave  to  the  banker  was 
a  counterfeit,  and  we  had  been  arrested  as  counterfeiters,  or 
something  of  that  sort.  But  Jake  was  sure  that  could  not  be  the 
cause  of  such  a  terrible  state  of  off  airs,  atid  as  the  tears 
coursed  down  over  his  yet  "healthy-looking"  cheeks,  and  he, 
anon,  wiped  off  the  surplus  "brine"  with  his  sleeve,  he  felt  dead 
certain  that  we  were  going  to  be  hung  or  banished,  or  sent  to  the 
state  prison  for  life,  and  starved  to  death  on  bread  and  water. 
While  we  ourself  were  also  in  a  delightful  state  of  uncertainty  as 
to  the  fate  that  awaited  us,  yet  we  tried  to  cheer  Jake  up  as  much 
as  we  could.  To  add  to  our  misery,  we  feared  that  we  would  not 
be  given  an  opportunity  to  establish  our  innocence  until  the  boat 
would  go  off  and  leave  us,  which  would  prove  a  ruin  next  to  be- 
ing executed  or  sent  to  the  penitentiary. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour,  or  less,  one  of  the  officers  came  in  and 
told  us  to  follow  him.  Our  limbs  grew  so  weak  with  excitement 
and  fear,  that  it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  we  could  ascend 
the  stairs  that  led  to  the  apartment  of  justice.  Jake's  knees 
fairly  smote  each  other  as  we  came  in  before  the  justice,  where 
were  assembled  a  motley  group,  only  differing  in  the  various 
kinds  of  "tough  nuts"  that  seemed  to  fill  the  place.  The 
banker  was  inside  the  bar,  and  a  group  of  legal  men  were  engaged 
in  writing  out  documents.  Jake  and  ourself  were  given  seats  in- 
side the  railing,  and  the  judge  asked  the  banker  what  charges  he 
had  to  present  against  the  two  prisoners.  At  the  word  "prison- 
ers," Jake  looked  up  at  his  illustrious  partner  in  crime — the  boss 
traveler — and  such  a  look!  It  was  a  look  of  despair  which  no 
brush  could  have  transferred  to  canvas,  or  mortal  words  express. 
As  for  ourself,  we  felt  that  no  drop  of  blood  coursed  its  way  in 
our  veins,  although  as  the  crisis  came,  we  felt  the  calm  of  des- 
peration coming  over  us,  for  we  knew  that  if  we  were  ever  to  get 
out  of  that  trouble,  ive  should  certainly  have  to  accomplish  it,  as 
we  could  plainly  see  that  Jake  was  completely  dumbfounded. 

The  banker  arose,  holding  the  fatal  bank-note  in  his  hand,  and 
informed  the  judge  of  the  circumstances  by  which  it  came  into 
his  possession.  He  said  it  was  an  "altered bill,"  or  "raised  bill," 


50  Sketches  of  the  West. 

which  meant  that  it  was  origininally  a  o«e-dollarbill.  That  there 
was  a  gang  of  men,  somewhere,  who  were  flooding  the  country 
with  this  altered  or  raised  money,  and  that  the  bankers  and  busi- 
ness men  of  Cincinnati  had  been  severely  swindled  by  this  money, 
some  of  which  was  most  cleverly  executed.  He  added  that  the 
bankers  had  resolved  to  ferret  out  this  gang  of  swindlers,  if  pos- 
sible, and  bring  them  to  justice;  that  he  felt  sure  these  two  young 
sprigs  might  be  made  to  divulge  something  that  would  further 
the  ends  of  justice  in  this  matter:  at  any  rate  he  considered  the 
manner  and  circumstances  of  the  tender  of  this  money  at  his  bank 
sufficiently  suspicious  to  warrant  him  in  causing  their  arrest — 
pointing  to  Jake  and  ourself — for  they  were  just  such  verdant  ap- 
pearing, uncouth  chaps  as  these  who  would  be  used  as  feelers  for 
the  main  gang. 

After  he  concluded  his  remarks,  the  judge,  turning  to  the 
writer,  said:  "Well,  young  man,  what  have  you  to  offer  in  de- 
fense of  your  act  in  presenting  such  money  as  this  at  the  bank?" 

We  staggered  to  our  feet,  holding  to  the  railing,  lest  our  knee- 
joints  should  fail  entirely — for  a  court  of  justice  was  certainly 
new  to  us  in  its  surroundings  and  affairs,  and  had  it  not  been  a 
most  desperate  case  we  should  never  have  been  able  to  offer  any 
defense  at  all.  But,  being  couscious  of  our  own  innocence,  when 
we  arose  to  speak  a  feeling  of  indignation  came  to  6ur  assistance, 
and  we  began  at  the  first  of  our  trip  and  related  a  straightfor- 
ward history  of  who  we  were,  where  we  were  going,  where  we  re- 
ceived the  money  and  all  about  it — even  to  the  misfortune  of  our 
friend  Jake  in  being  taken  down  with  the  mumps,  which  fact  we 
offered  in  extenuation  of  his  present  not  overly  honest-looking 
face — there  being  yet  an  undue  proportion  of  "cheek"  in  his 
general  make-up.  The  money,  we  had  received  from  a  country 
schoolmaster,  before  leaving  home.  After  hearing  our  story,  the 
judge  turned  to  an  officer  and  said: 

"  Take  this  note,  officer,  and  accompany  these  two  lads  to  the 
boat,  at  the  levee,  upon  which  they  claim  to  be  passengers,  and 
if  you  find  their  statements  true  in  that  particular,  and  there  are 
no  new  suspicions  forced  upon  your  mind,  return  the  bill  to  them 
and  let  them  go  on  their  way  rejoicing." 

At  this,  we  both  followed  the  officer,  our  hearts  several  tons 


Sketches  of  the   West.  ol 

lighter  than  when  we  entered  the  building,  and  soon  arrived  at 
the  boat,  w^here  preparations  were  being  made  to  continue  the 
journey.  The  officer  went  with  us  to  the  clerk  of  the  boat,  who 
certified  to  our  character  as  passengers — particularly  to  Jake  as 
being  a  well  known  passenger  on  the  boat — when  the  officer  gave 
us  our  "raised  bill"  and  went  on  shore.  The  lines  were  hauled 
in  and  we  were  soon  afloat  once  more.  In  an  interview  on  the 
upper  deck,  shortly  after,  Jake  and  ourself  voted  unanimous- 
ly in  favor  of  a  proposition  to  the  effect  that  we  had  learned  sev- 
eral entirely  new  things  that  day,  and  that  we  had  seen  all  of 
Cincinnati  that  we  cared  to — at  least  until  sometime  when  we 
didn't  have  so  much  spurious  currency  about  us  as  we  seemed  to 
have  that  day. 

.No  troubles  overtook  us,  worthy  of  mention,  before  reaching 
St.  Louis,  after  the  slice  of  education  we  had  enjoyed  at  Cincin- 
nati. An  incident,  however,  occured  not  far  from  Cairo,  which, 
while  it  lasted,  was  somewhat  exciting.  It  was  somewhere  near 
the  middle  of  the  night,  and  all  of  the  several  hundred  pas- 
sengers on  board  were  soundly  sleeping — or  nearly  all.  The  rooms, 
of  course,  were  all  full,  and  in  addition,  the  cabin  floor  from  one 
end  to  the  other,  was  covered  with  cots  or  "shake-downs"  to 
accommodate  the  passengers  who  were  not  fortunate  enough  to 
secure  staterooms.  During  the  night,  if  one  found  it  necessary  to 
pass  through  the  cabin,  great  caution  had  to  be  used  in  making  a 
way  among  the  slumberers  strewn  about. 

Suddenly,  as  if  the  boat  had  crashed  into  a  perpendicular  ledge 
of  rocks,  came  a  crashing  and  smashing;  a  snaping  of  timbers:  a 
rolling  and  pitching;  and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  relate  it  the 
terrified  passengers  came  screaming  and  tumbling  out  of  their 
rooms,  in  dishabille, — men,  women  and  children.  Many  from  the 
upper  bunks  came,  like  leaping  frogs,  through  the  transoms, 
landing  in  the  utter  mob  in  the  cabin,  heels-over-head:  while 
more  than  one  muscular  two-hundred-pounder  never  stopped  to 
unlock  his  door,  but  came  crashing  through  the  thin  bulkheads, 
carrying  all  before  them,  and  adding  kindling  wood  to  the  general 
mix-up:  the  boat  rolled  and  groaned  from  stem  to  stern.  The 
writer  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  so  stupified  with  terror,  that  we 
simply   gained   the   transom  and  had  crawled   about   half   way 


52  Sketches  of  the  West. 

through,  when  we  could  only  hang  over  the  cross-piece  above  the 
door  and  look  down  upon  the  confusion  that  prevailed  from  one 
end  of  the  great  cabin  to  the  other.  One-third  of  the  mass  of 
human  beings  seemed  to  be  under  foot,  while  the  balance  surged 
up  and  down,  shouting  and  howling — the  women  screaming,  the 
children  wailing  and  the  men  cursing.  At  last  the  captain  and 
clerk  gained  an  elevated  position  in  the  forward  end  of  the  cabin, 
and  the  former  being  a  very  large  man,  with  a  voice  like  seven 
thunders,  after  a  time  succeeded  in  attracting  the  attention  of 
the  mob,  and  with  more  power  than  elegance  of  language,  said 
the  danger  was  past,  and  that  the  boat  was  all  safe;  that  if  they 
didn't  stop  their  infernal  noise  and  settle  down,  he  would  shoot  a 
hundred  or  two  of  the  leaders  of  the  confusion,  etc.  After  a  few 
minutes  spent  in  well  directed  assurances  and  threats,  the  people 
were  finally  sufficiently  pacified  to  permit  the  captain  to  explain 
the  cause  of  the  disaster  and  its  extent.  He  said  the  larboard 
barge  had  struck  a  rock,  and  had  been  torn  into  a  thousand  pieces, 
she  and  her  cargo  of  iron  going  to  the  bottom  in  less  time  than 
you  could  say  "Jack  Robinson,"  with  your  mouth  wide  open  to 
begin  with;  that  although  the  barge  was,  of  necessity,  attached 
the  steamer  by  immense  hawsers  and  a  cable  chain,  yet  the  latter 
had  withstood  the  shock  with  but  little  damage  he  thought,  as 
the  hawsers  and  chains  had  parted  or  torn  their  fastenings  instead 
of  injuring  the  hull  materially;  and  the  steamer  had  been  saved 
from  capsizing  or  being  thrown  athwart  the  ledge  by  the  iron 
laden  barge  on  her  starboard  side,  which  held  her  straight  and 
comparatively  steady.  He  added  that  the  carpenter  and  a  crew 
of  men  were  already  in  the  hold,  fully  prepared  to  head  off  any 
leaks  that  might  have  been  sprung  by  the  shock,  and  that  he 
wanted  them  to  settle  down  and  cease  making  a  pack  of  infernal 
fools  of  themselves;  enough  people  had  already  been  hurt,  and 
enough  damage  been  done;  he  could  get  them  ashore  in  any 
event,  etc. 

After  this  explanation,  the  mob  cooled  down,  and  began  to  see 
themselves  as  others  saw  them — and  they  commenced  a  grand 
scramble  for  their  clothing,  whilst  many  of  the  more  humane  and 
considerate  turned  their  attention  to  those  who  had  been  injured 
in  the  terrible  scene  just  enacted. 


Sketches  of  the  West.  '"^3 

As  good  fortune  willed  it,  there  were  none  killed,  although  sev- 
eral had  limbs  fractured  or  sprained,  and  many  were  severely 
bruised;  one  little  boy  had  his  ear  nearly  torn  off  by  being  thrown 
against  a  broken  door-knob,  as  was  supposed.  Poor  Jake,  it 
seems,  had  gained  the  cabin,  and  joined  in  with  the  general  melee 
and  w^hen  we  next  discovered  him  he  was  sitting  in  the  pantry, 
half  buried  in  broken  dishes,  and  his  mumps  terribly  scored  up 
and  distorted,  although  he  received  no  serious  injury,  and  we 
soon  had  him  dug  out  from  among  the  shattered  crockery  and 
again  in  his  stateroom,  where  he  bathed  his  wounds  and  regulat- 
ed his  mumps  again  as  thoroughly  as  circumstances,  with  our 
assistance,  admitted.  About  the  first  well-regulated  sentence 
that  Jake  succeeded  in  digging  up  from  his  inner  man  was  to  the 
effect  that  he  wished  himself  at  home;  that  if  his  mother  knew 
how  things  were  going  with  him,  h^  was  afraid  it  would  kill  her. 
But  we  tried  to  comfort  him  by  assuring  him  that  his  mother  was 
not,  in  all  probability,  aware  of  the  eventful  life  her  dutiful  son 
was  leading,  and  beside  we  told  him  that  his  trip  so  far  was  only 
about  an  average  traveler's  experience;  that  he  might  expect  an 
"  endless  string  "  of  such  fun  till  he  once  more  saw  his  mother,  if, 
indeed,  he  ever  saw  her  again.  Then  Jake  boo-hoo-awd  a  little, 
and  said  he  was  a  dod-rotted  fool  for  leaving  home,  anyway. 

The  boat  was  found,  upon  examination,  to  be  considerably  in- 
jured; although,  aside  from  several  leaks  being  sprung,  which 
were  speedily  repaired  temporarily,  the  injuries  were  above  the 
water-line — along  her  guards  and  lower  deck. 

We  finally,  and  without  further  mishap,  reached  St.  Louis, 
where  the  great  load  of  passengers,  who  had  become  pretty  well 
acquainted  with  one  another,  separated.  The  greater  portion  of 
them  sought  Missouri  River  steamers,  while  others^Jake  and 
ourself  among  the  rest — found  and  took  passage  t>n  boats  for  the 
upper  Mississippi.  The  furthest  point  up  the  river  to  which 
tickets  could  be  purchased  at  St.  Louis,  was  to  Muscatine,  Iowa; 
and  to  this  point  we  bought  and  paid  for  our  tickets,  leaving 
some  twenty-five  dollars  of  a  cash  capital  remaining  in  the  sev- 
eral pockets  of  Jake  and  ourself,  combined. 

The  boat  did  not  leave  for  about  twelve  hours  after  we  had  tak- 
en passage,  and  so,  not  being  wholly  intimidated  by  our  Cincinnati 


54  Sketch  en  of  the  Went. 

experience,  we  determined  to  look  around  the  great  city  just  a 
little.  It  was  not  long  until  we  came  to  where  there  was  a  little 
"show,"  which  the  crier  asserted  was  "the  greatest  panorama  of 
nineteenth  century — or  any  other  century!''''  Neither  Jake  or 
ourself  was  very  clear  as  to  what  a  panorama  was,  but  we  deter- 
mined, after  a  little  council  together,  that  if  the  biggest  thing  of 
the  nineteenth  century  could  be  seen  for  fifteen  cents,  the  very 
best  thing  we  could  do  was  to  make  the  investment.  We  entered 
the  place  and  were  directed  to  put  our  eye  up  to  each  of  a  row  of 
little  peep-holes,  which  would  enable  us  to  "  see  it."  By  peeping 
in,  we  found  that  the  little  glass  through  which  we  looked  was  a 
sort  of  magnifier,  and  increased  in  size  and  beauty — and  there 
was  a  big  chance  for  an  increase  in  the  latter — the  common,  and 
highly-colored  pictures  exposed  behind  the  screen.  They  were 
just  such  ten-cent  pictures — of  battles,  of  Generals  Scott,  Tay- 
lor, Worth  and  Ringgold,  Captain  May  and  his  cavalry,  Daniel 
Boone  and  his  boss  coon,  and  so  on — as  could  be  found  in  any  of 
the  backwoods  shanties  on  the  frontier,  or  in  the  mountain  re- 
gions of  our  own  native  State.  Still,  Jake  allowed  that  "  they 
was  a  heap  sight  purtier,  'cause  they  was  bigger,  and  looked  sort 
uv  sleeker  through  them  little  glasses,"  and  he  became  very  much 
absorbed  in  "  the  superabundant  magnificence  of  their  unpre- 
cedented grandeur,"  or  words  to  that  effect.  There  was  a  sort  of 
mixed  crowd  about  the  place,  jamming  and  jostling  to  ond  fro, 
and  after  Jake  had  been  around  and  seen  all  the  "picturs,"  we 
left,  and  started  leisurely  along  in  the  direction  of  the  steamboat 
landing. 

Just  before  we  reached  the  wharf,  however,  Jake  stopped 
suddenly,  and  grasped  his  vest  pocket  with  both  his  hands.  He 
staggered  up  against  an  unlatched  gate,  and  fell  into  the  yard,  as 
the  gate  gave  way.  "Jake!"  we  fairly  gasped  in  our  terror  at 
his  unaccountable  conduct,  "what  in  the  con-darn 'd  nation  is  the 
matter  with  you— I  say,  Jake,  what  has  come  over  you  so  quick, 
anyway?  speak,  Jake,  are  you  sick?"  But  Jake  only  groaned, 
and  was  more  than  ordinarily  speechless,  and  we  thought  he  was 
dying;  or  else,  that  his  "  nearly  well  mumps  "  had  taken  a  sudden 
relapse,  and  we  glanced  up  and  down  the  street  to  see  if  we  could 
discover  a  doctor's  sign.     Jake  sat  up,  and  gazed  at  us  with  a 


Sketches  of  the  West.  55 

wild,  yet  vacant,  stare,  as  he  at  last  feebly  uttered:  "My  watch 
— oh  my  pappy 's  nice  watch  has  gone!"  That  explained  the  seat 
of  poor  Jake's  disease.  His  pocket  had  been  picked  in  "the 
greatest  panorama  of  the  nineteenth  century — or  any  other 
century,"  and  at  that  moment  some  watch  fiend  had  poor  Jake's 
old  fifteen-cent  "bull's-eye,"  that  had  constituted  the  munificent 
gift  from  Jake's  father  to  his  adventurous  son.  To  be  sure,  the 
old  rattle-box  was  worn  thin  as  a  wafer,  the  case  was  dented  up 
like  a  teething-spoon,  there  was  only  one  hand  that  clicked 
around  over  the  broken  face,  there  were  but  three  wheels  and  a 
"  dog"  inside,  and  when  it  went  at  all  it  would  either  knock  off 
an  hour  every  fifteen  minutes,  or  wouldn't  go  at  all;  but  all  these 
characteristics  and  eccentricities  had  no  kind  of  influence  in  the 
way  of  persuading  Jake  that  his  "pap's  nice  watch"  wasn't 
worth  a  thousand  dollars  in  clean  dust;  although  we  assured  him 
that  we  could  go  right  up  town  and  find  places  where  we  could 
buy  better  watches,  than  his  pap's  old  wreck,  for  fiftj^  cents  a 
bushel,  and  if  we  grumbled  about  the  measure  they  would  throw 
in  two  or  three  scoop-shovels  full,  still  he  remained  uncomforted; 
and  so,  he  entered  the  first  of  a  series  of  agonies  which  must  have 
aggregated  about  a  thousand  dollars  in  value,  ere  he  could  think 
of  becoming  reconciled  to  far  the  greatest  loss  of  his  life,  up  to 
date. 

After  awhile,  however,  we  succeeded  in  comforting  Jake  suffi- 
ciently to  get  him  up  on  his  pegs  again,  and  to  shut  the  man's 
gate;  we  assured  him  that,  as  our  mothers  had  taught  us,  it  must 
be  for  the  best — that  if  some  one  had  not  stolen  his  watch,  he 
might  have  caught  the  smallpox;  or,  we  might  have  got  our  legs 
into  a  hole  in  the  sidewalk  and  had  them  broken;  or — or— or, 
there  might  have  been  a  great  fire,  or  we  might  have  been  bitten 
by  a  mad  dog;  or  the  world  might  have  come  to  an  end,  or  some 
other  awful  thing  might  have  happened;  and,  all  in  all,  it  was  no 
doubt  "all  for  the  best,"  though  we  acknowledged  our  inability 
to  prove  it,  just  then. 

After  a  time  Jake's  grief  found  expression  in  a  torrent  of  tears, 
and  convulsive  sobs;  and,  after  we  had  stood  around  him,  in  re- 
spectful silence  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  offering  nothing  that 
might  mar  the  even  flow  of  his  comforting  sorrow,  we  rallied  him, 


56  Sketches  of  the  West. 

and  assured  him  that  what  was,  was;  and  what  wasn't,  wasn't; 
and  what  isn't,  isn't — including  his  precious  watch.  Hence,  we 
owed  it  to  ourselves,  and  to  our  posterity,  to  get  back  to  the  boat, 
for  fear  we  might  get  left;  and  so,  Jake  said,  "  All  right;  but  I'd 
like  to  kill  the  confounded  thief  that  has  my  watch,  that  my  pap 
gimme,  an'  if  I  ever  go  into  another  panner-rammer  fur  fifteen 
cents,  I  hope  to  be  dod-rotted  to  dod-rotation,  anyway!  "  Jake 
did  not  entirely  forget  his  grief  for  many  days,  and  several  times 
when  he  awoke  in  the  night  we  could  hear  him  silently  weeping, 
we  presume  for  his  pap's  watch,  and  because  of  the  rich  mine  of 
sinfulness  he  had  struck,  so  early  in  his  career  as  a  traveler. 

Our  trip  to  the  rapids,  near  Keokuk  was  quite  uneventful,  and 
while  the  writer  enjoyed  the  beautiful  scenery  along  the  great 
river,  our  companion  generally  either  remained  in  his  room,  or 
else  he  sat  on  the  shady  side  of  the  boat,  his  hat  drawn  down 
over  his  eyes,  staring  up  into  space  and,  to  all  outward  appear- 
ances, thinking  deeply  about  nothing.  But  we  excused  Jake's 
evident  melancholy,  under  the  circumstances,  for  even  at  best,  it 
was  only  "once  in  a  blue  moon"  that  he  undertook  the  perpe- 
tration of  a  whole  sentence,  and  never,  unless  in  the  highest  of 
spirits  or  in  some  trying  emergency.  We  have  often  thought 
since,  that  it  was  our  trip  with  Jake  that  developed  us  into  so 
great  a  talker;  for,  upon  that  occasion  we  were  forced  to  do  all 
the  talking  for  two,* and  all  the  more,  owing  to  the  perpetual 
chain  of  circumstances  that  demanded  of  us  an  extraordinary 
amount  of  loquacity. 

At  the  rapids  the  boat  transferred  her  passengers  around  the 
great  natural  barrier  to  navigation  that  existed,  and  at  Montrose 
— at  the  head  of  the  rapids — we  again  embarked  on  a  smaller  boat 
belonging  to  the  same  line,  to  continue  our  journey  to  Muscatine, 
to  which  point  our  passage  was  paid  and  at  which  place  we  ex- 
pected to  have  money  enough  left  to  buy  tickets  for  St.  Paul. 

During  the  half  day  we  stopped  at  the  miserable  little  town  of 
Montrose,  awaiting  the  transfer  of  baggage,  freight,  etc.,  we  met 
with  another  mishap,  that  completely  unbalanced  us.  As  Jake 
and  ourself  were  putting  in  our  time  by  wandering  along  the 
beach  not  far  from  the  boat,  picking  up  pretty  stones,  and  really 
enjoying  ourselves  more  than  at  any  time  since  beginning  our 


Sketches  of  the  West.  57 

journey,  a  veiy  finely  dressed,  and  delightfully  pleasing  young  man 
came  up  to  us,  and  appeared  to  also  interest  himself  very  much 
in  picking  up  the  little  gems  occasionally  found  along  the  water's 
edge.  He  casually  inquired  if  we  were  passengers  on  the  boat 
soon  to  depart — the  "  Ben  Campbell  " — to  which  we  replied  affirm- 
atively. He  said  he  was  going  up  on  that  boat,  and  asked  how 
far  up  the  river  we  were  going,  and  we  told  him  to  St.  Paul.  He 
seemed  delighted,  and  assured  us  that  St.  Paul  was  also  his  des- 
tination, and  that  he  was  ever  so  glad  to  find  such  pleasant  com- 
panions for  the  long  trip.  Of  course  we  were  in  turn,  very  much 
pleased  to  be  made  so  much  of  by  so  elegant  and  accomplished  a 
young  man,  and  it  was  not  long  until  a  thorough  and  mutual 
admiration  society  was  formed— so  far  as  outward  appearances 
went.  After  chatting  and  laughing,  for  a  time,  as  we  wandered 
up  and  down  the  beach,  our  newly  made  friend(?)  suddenly,  and 
as  if  the  recollection  had  just  occurred  to  him,  turned  to  us  and 
said: 

"  Oh,  say,  boys!  Have  you  seen  that  big  turtle  they  have  up 
yonder,  at  that  place  where  the  big  red  sign  is?" 

We  assured  him  that  we  had  not. 

"Well,  well!"  said  he,  "If  you  haven't  seen  that  turtle,  you'd 
just  better  go  right  up  now  and  see  it." 

By  this  time  Jake's  eyes  began  to  stick  out  with  interest,  as  he 
ventured  to  ask  how  big  it  was;  and  said  he  had  "ketched  "  one 
once  in  the  mill-dam  at  home  that  was  as  big  as  a  pie-tin . 

"Big  as  a  pie-tin!"  exclaimed  our  friend,  "why  this  one  up  at 
the  red  sign  is  six  feet  across  his  back,  and  has  a  head  bigger 
than  yours — you  just  ought  to  go  up  an'  see  him." 

"  Je-whillakers  krout!"  exclaitned  Jake,  in  return,  his  eyes 
looking  like  a  couple  of  onions,  "  I'd  like  to  see  him." 

"Well,"  said  our  friend,  "  If  you'd  like  to  go  ap,  I'll  go  along." 

"All  right,"  the  writer  remarked,  "we'd  be  obliged  to  you," 
and  off  we  started  to  see  the  wonderful  beast-reptile;  for  the 
truth  was,  the  writer  was  quite  as  much  excited  on  the  turtle 
question  as  was  Jake. 

Arriving  at  and  entering  the  open  door  of  what  seemed  to  be  a 
saloon,  our  friend  asked  the  person  in  attendance  where  the 
turtle  was:  he  said  the  man  had  taken  it  to  water,  and  would  be 


58  Sketches  of  the  West. 


back  with  it  in  a  few  minutes;  to  just  make  ourselves  comfortable 
about  the  place  in  the  meantime. 

At  this,  our  friend  turned  to  us  and  said:  "  Well,  boys,  this  is 
a  pleasant  room,  and  we  can  just  look  about  a  little  till  they  bring 
the  turtle  back.  By  the  way,  "  he  continued  in  a  sort  of  confi- 
dential undertone,  "  see,  they  are  playing  cards  over  at  the  other 
end  of  the  room;  suppose  we  just  carelessly  work  over  that  way; 
I'd  like  to  see  regular  cards  played  once — I  never  saw  regHar 
cards  played  in  my  life."  Accordingly,  we  all  sauntered  over 
that  way,  where  a  tall,  gaunt  looking  man,  dressed  in  a  blue-jeans 
suit  and  white  choker,  stood  behind  a  table,  tossing  three  cards 
sort  of  carelessly  about  him,  and  offering  to  bet  that  no  one 
could  turn  up  a  certain  one  of  these  cards — all  three  he  exhibited 
after  he  had  given  them  a  careless  toss,  one  over  the  other.  Our 
new-made  friend  seemed  much  interested  in  the  simple-appearing 
little  game,  and  asked  the  man  to  show  him  a  certain  one,  and 
then  see  if  he  could  not  turn  it  up,  after  he,  the  tall  man,  had 
manipulated  them,  just  for  fun,  without  betting  anything.  The 
man  accommodated  him  a  couple  of  times,  and  sure  enough,  our 
friend  turned  the  winning  card  each  time,  which  seemed  to  aston- 
ish the  card-man  not  a  little;  yet,  Jake  and  the  writer  could 
easily  keep  our  eye  on  the  right  card,  as  he  tossed  them  about, 
and  it  seemed  certain  that  the  man  must  lose  every  bet. 

Finally  the  man  offered  to  bet  our  friend  a  twenty-dollar  gold 
piece  that  he  could  not  turn  up  the  right  card  the  third  time, 
which  bet  was  accepted  and  won  as  easily  as  not.  By  this  time 
Jake  was  thoroughly  excited;  he  knew  he  could  turn  up  the  right 
one  a  thousand  times  in  succession;  and,  beside,  our  companion 
now  urged  Jake  to  go  for  it — there  was  a  fortune  in  it;  and  Jake 
began  to  step  around,  like  a  hen  on  a  warm  griddle,  his  hands 
twitched  nervously  in  his  pockets,  while  his  eyes  were  protruding 
with  the  idea  of  at  least  increasing  our  greatly  depleted  purses  at 
one  fell  stroke.  But,  whilst  our  friend  had  been  betting  and 
winning  so  easily  every  time,  and  urging  Jake  to  avail  himself  of 
the  wonderful  opportunity  to,  make  a  haul,  the  writer  had  been 
slyly  looking  about  the  place,  and  scanning  the  faces  of  those 
who  were  in  the  room,  and  had  finally  decided  that  we  had  been 
inveigled  into  a  bad  place:  we  nudged  Jake,  and  whispered  to 


Sketches  of  the  West.  59 

him:  "Let  us  run  out  of  here,  quick;  they're  fooling  us  about  the 
turtle,  and  I  believe  they  are  going  to  rob  us,"  and  the  writer 
started  for  the  door.  Jake  followed  to  the  door  and  declared  he 
could  turn  the  right  card,  he  knew;  our  friend  who  had  also  fol- 
lowed, insisted  that  it  was  all  right,  and  that  if  we  needed  any 
more  money,  now  was  our  time  to  get  it,  etc.,  and  seemed  so  much 
interested  in  us  that,  in  response  to  Jake's  urgent  request  we 
gave  him  (Jake)  all  the  money  we  had,  and  told  him  that  if  he 
was  bound  to  risk  it,  all  right — we  could  stand  it  if  he  could.  By 
putting  both  piles  together,  we  mustered  twenty-five  dollars  of 
good  money,  and  the  ten-dollar  counterfeit  bill,  and  Jake  shuffled 
back  to  the  table,  spread  out  his  money  before  the  tall  man  in 
the  blue-jeans  suit,  and  told  him  there  was  all  the  money  he  had; 
but  that  he  would  wager  it  against  thirty  dollars  in  gold,  and  the 
man  accepted  the  challenge;  while,  to  make  a  still  more  certain 
thing  in  favor  of  Jake,  he  allowed  him  to  take  the  winning  card 
and  mark  it  by  turning  down  one  corner.  He  then  took  the  three 
and  gave  them  a  little  toss,  one  over  the  other,  and  there  lay  in 
plain  sight  the  card  with  the  corner  turned  down,  and  Jake  could 
not  resist  smiling,  though  intensely  excited  at  his  good  luck  as  he 
reached  out  and  turned  up  the  winning  card — the  seven  of  spades 
— but  when  he  turned  it  up  it  was  the  jack  of  hearts!  The 
gambler  raked  Jake's  and  our  own  earthly  all  into  his  pile,  and 
ironically  asked  poor  Jake  if  he  had  any  more  money  he  would 
like  to  bet  on  that  "little  game." 

Jake  turned  to  look  at  our  friend,  who  had  invited  us  hither, 
but  he  was  gone;  he  looked  after  his  money,  but  it  was  gone;  the 
turtle  was  gone,  and  we  told  Jake  that  it  was  about  time  that  we 
also  were  gone,  so  he  staggered  along  into  the  open  air,  while  the 
cold  perspiration  stood  out  on  his  forehead  like  great  beads,  as 
we  hastened  toward  the  boat — neither  saying  a  word,  but  poor 
Jake  looking  the  very  personification  of  agonized  despair.  The 
writer  felt,  indeed,  as  though  ruin  haunted  our  pathway,  yet  we 
could  not  find  it  in  our  heart  to  heap  coals  of  fire  on  his  poor  un- 
fortunate head,  then,  at  least;  for  he  was  evidently  suffering  all 
the  remorse  that  it  was  possible  for  him  to  bear  and  be  able  to 
walk  at  all.  We  finally  reached  the  boat,  gained  the  roof  and 
sat  down  in  the  shade  in  silence,  and  gazed  blankly  up  town  with 


60  Sketches  of  the  West. 

our  eyes  resting  upon  that  fatal  sign,  and  mentally  swearing  that 
we  never  would  get  off  that  boat  again  before  reaching  Musca- 
tine, unless  we  were  kicked  off  by  the  toe  of  superior  authority. 

Jake  was  completely  and  emphatically  silent  during  the  re- 
mainder of  the  afternoon  and  evening,  and  we  were  sufficiently 
amused  by  occasionally  taking  a  look  at  his  woebegone  counte- 
nance— grief  seemed  to  be  stereotyped  in  every  feature.  He  sat, 
humped  over,  with  both  hands  in  his  now  thoroughly  empty 
pockets  and  we  feared  at  times  he  would  either  find  relief  in  an- 
other of  those  artistic  bursts  of  grief,  or  else  jump  into  the  river, 
partly  with  a  view  to  drowning  his  sorrow,  and  to  make  sure  his 
escape  from  the  snares  of  a  traveler's  life  that  might  still  be  in 
store  for  him.  But  Jake  finally  weathered  it  through,  and  the 
next  morning  we  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  asking  him  if 
he  thought  he  had  made  a  good  purchase  in  the  way  of  experi- 
ence at  Montrose.  He  said  he  had  got  experience  enough  about 
cards  and  turtles  to  last  him  awhile,  but  he  didn't  know  what 
was  to  become  of  us  after  we  got  to  Muscatine.  This  broke  the 
ice,  and  so  we  sat  down  in  a  retired  corner,  and  began  to  discuss 
seriously,  the  prospects,  organizing  ourselves  into  a  committee 
on  "  ways  and  means."  There  seemed  to  be  ways  in  abundance, 
but  the  means  were  emphatically  7ion  est;  and  what  were  the 
ways  good  for  with  no  means  to  put  any  of  them  into  execution? 

At  last  we  arrived  at  the  end  of  the  paid  portion  of  our  jour- 
ney, with  no  plan  of  action  fully  decided  upon.  We  went  ashore 
promptly,  however,  and  with  our  grip-sacks  wandered  up  into 
the  town,  rather  hoping,  and  yet  half  fearing,  that  something 
might  turn  up.  But  nothing  occurred  for  our  benefit  during  the 
two  hours  of  our  sitting  and  standing  around  the  corners;  at  last 
we  concluded,  that  as  we  were  thoroughbred  "country  jakes," 
and  did  not  know  the  first  principles  necessary  to  striking  a  job 
in  town,  we  had  better  strike  for  the  country,  and  see  if  we  could 
not  get  something  to  do,  whereby,  in  time,  our  shattered  fortunes 
might  be  mended  to  a  sufficient  extent  to  enable  us  to  pursue  our 
journey. 

Accordingly,  just  as  evening  was  beginning  to  throw  somber 
shades  athwart  the  valleys,  Jake  and  ourself  ascended  the  hill  in 
the  rear  of  the  town,  with  saddened  hearts,  and  our  grip-sacks 
swung  on  sticks  across  our  shoulders. 


Sketches  of  the  West.  61 

As  we  plodded  along,  more  engaged  in  thought  than  in  conver- 
sation, we  gradually  emerged  into  an  open  country,  where  noth- 
ing broke  the  monotony  of  the  scene,  the  great  prairie  seeming  to 
fade  away  in  the  leaden  horizon.  Toward  night  the  farmhouses 
began  to  be  farther  and  farther  apart,  until,  w^hen  twilight  over- 
took us,  w^e  found  ourselves  far  out  on  a  plain  with  no  habitations 
in  sight.  Hoping  we  should  not  have  to  travel  many  miles  be- 
fore this  treeless  waste  would  be  crossed  and  a  settlement  reached, 
we  trudged  on  until  the  night  grew  so  dark  that  we  could  follow 
the  dim  road  no  longer,  and  still  no  "  light  in  the  window  "  could 
be  distinguished  in  any  direction.  At  last  we  were  reluctantly 
compelled  to  abandon  the  idea  of  reaching  a  settlement  that 
night,  and  lest  we  should  miss  the  road  and  become  hopelessly 
lost,  we  suggested  to  Jake  that  we  "go  into  camp"  until  morn- 
ing, disagreeable  though  it  might  be. 

It  must  have  been  nine  o'clock — though  we  could  only  guess  at 
the  time,  since  Jake  lost  his  "pap's  watch,"  but  it  is  likely  we 
were  able  to  arrive  at  a  more  correct  guess  without  it  than  with 
it — when  we  gave  up  the  tramp  for  the  night;  the  weather  was 
not  cold,  though  it  began  to  cloud  up  and  threaten  rain.  We 
had  just  emerged  from  a  long,  low  tract  of  country,  and  reached 
a  slightly  elevated  plateau,  and  we  told  Jake  that  here  w^as  our 
spot  to  camp.  The  writer  pretty  well  knew  of  what  some  of  the 
exercises  of  the  night  would  consist,  and  so,  after  depositing  our 
grip-sacks  together  close  to  the  track,  we  ordered  that  we  both 
now  feel  our  way  back  to  where  the  tall  dry  cane-grass  of  the  last 
year's  growth,  stood  thickly  on  the  ground.  Here,  with  our 
pocket-knives,  we  cut  a  large  armful  each,  and  also  a  small  bunch 
of  tough  w4re-grass,  and  with  it  returned  to  the  higher  ground 
where  our  carpet-bags  had  been  left.  Jake  ventured  to  inquire  a 
couple  of  times  what  we  intended  doing  with  the  cane-grass,  but 
we  only  answered  that  possibly  he  might  find  out  before  morn- 
ing. 

After  reaching  our  "camp,"  we  had  Jake  divide  the  dry  cane 
into  small  bundles,  or  wisps,  whilst  we  took  small  wisps  of  the 
wire-grass  for  bands  and  bound  about  them  at  intervals,  making 
about  twenty  of  the  cane  faggots.  Then  taking  a  match,  of 
which  we  fortunately  had  plenty,  we  lighted  one  to  test  its  burn- 


62  Sketches  of  the  West. 

ing  qualities,  and  found  it  to  be  dry  as  tinder,  burning  brightly, 
and  throwing  its  brilliant  light  far  about  through  the  increasing 
blackness  of  the  gathering  night. 

We  now  told  Jake  that  all  there  was  left  for  us  to  do  was  to 
curl  down  on  the  grass,  using  our  "  grips  "  for  a  pillow,  and  make 
ourselves  as  comfortable  as  circumstances,  present  and  prospect- 
ive, would  admit.  That  on  the  morrow  we  should  doubtless  span 
this  dry  and  treeless  plain,  and  reach  civilization  again  where  we 
would  probably  find  employment  and  something  to  eat. 

As  for  ourself,  the  prospect  before  us  was  not  particularly 
discouraging,  because,  on  our  first  trip  to  the  West — as  will  be 
remembered  by  our  readers — we  had  suffered  hardships,  alone, 
the  equal  of  which  did  not  probably  lie  in  store  for  Jake  and  our- 
self in  the  present  emergency.  But  Jake,  to  whom  all  such  tri- 
als were  entirely  new,  seemed  very  much  cast  down;  probably 
the  more  so,  as  he  felt  that  he  had  been  the  means  of  bringing  us 
to  our  present  condition  of  penury,  and  general  state  of  grief. 
But,  as  Jake's  thermometer  of  courage  fell  toward  zero,  ours 
arose  proportionately,  which  was  fortunate  enough;  and  when  he 
would  venture  to  blame  himself  for  being  the  instrument  of  all 
the  misfortunes  that  he  was  sure  lay  in  store  for  us,  we  would 
rally  him,  and  fairly  scream  a  jubilee  of  some  sort  to  drown  his 
melancholy  and  revive  his  drooping  spirits. 

Upon  telling  Jake  that  we  had  better  retire  to  rest  upon  the 
velvety  green  of  that  vast  domain,  he  made  a  few  remarks  to 
the  effect  that  he  had  never  yet  been  compelled  to  sleep  on  the 
ground,  and  he  wouldn't  have  his  mother  know  he  was  so  exposed 
to  the  danger  of  taking  "death  of  cold,"  for  a  fortune;  she  would 
weep  her  eyes  out.  We  assured  Jake  that  "taking  cold"  was 
the  least  concern  we  felt,  and  as  for  his  mother  knowing  about 
the  "fun"  we  were  having,  she  simply  didn't,  and  that  was  the 
best  of  it.  "Yes,"  said  Jake,  "a  little  more  such  fun  as  we've 
been  havin'  will  kill  just  a  mule — confound  the  goin'  west,  any- 
how." We  told  him  that  what  he  had  seen  and  experienced 
was  only  called  "fun"  in  this  country,  and  that  there  was 
nothing  under  the  blue  sky  that  could  kill,  or  even  injure,  two 
such  perfectly  accomplished  potato-threshers  as  we  were,  anyway. 

So  we  talked  on,  as  wa  lay  prone  uwon  the  earth  resting  our 


Sketches  of  the  West.  63 

weary  limbs,  and  at  last  Jake  asked  us  something  more,  relative 
to  the  use  we  proposed  putting  the  cane  faggots  to,  and  also  said 
something  about  being  "  allfired  hungry,"  as  he  dozed  off  into  a 
sort  of  semi-conscious  sleep.  Thus  matters  stood — or  rather  lay 
— with  us,  when  suddenly  there  came  up  from  the  low  cane-flats 
a  long,  half  howling,  half  gurgling  cry,  ending  with  a  sharp, 
strange  "yap-yap!"  Jake  sprang  up  with  a  sudden  twitch,  to  a 
sitting  posture  and,  in  a  startled  undertone  exclaimed: 

"Oh,  good  Lordy,  what's  that?" 

We  could  fairly  hear  his  heart  thump,  in  the  dead  silence  that 
followed,  and  at  last  we  told  him  that  it  was  a  wolf;  and  a  wolf 
that  was  probably  about  as  hungry  for  a  square  meal  as  ourselves. 

"  A  wolf!  Oh,  cremany  Lordy!  Did  you  say  it  was  a  u'olf! — oh, 
isn't  it  something  else?" 

"No,  Jake,"  we  answered,  "it  is  really  a  wolf;  and  before  we 
hear  the  last  of  him,  we'll  hear  more  of  him,  it  is  altogether 
likely,  and  from  more  of  them,  also." 

"Oh,  jewhilaker  Lordy!  is  there  wolves  in  this  here  country?" 

"  Yes,  Jake;  on  these  solitary  flats,  among  the  rank  growth  of 
prodigious  wild  grasses — is  where  these  terrible  creatures  breed 
in  countless  numbers,  and  live  to  make  night  hideous  with  their 
mad  howlings;  they  feed  upon  mice,  frogs,  small  animals,  their 
own  aged  kind,  and  an  occasional  traveler  across  arid  wastes; 
these  brutes — 

"Oh,  let  us  go  somewhere!  Oh,  I'll  never  go  west  again — we 
haven't  no  gun,  no  trees  to  climb — oh,  what'U  become  of  us!  I 
never  seed  a  wolf,  nor  never  didn't  hear  no  wolf  afore,  neither; 
what'll  come  of  us  now — oh,  if  mother  only  know'd  how  it  is  with 
me  now,  she'd  die-i-i  !" 

After  begging  him  to  be  a  little  careful  about  his  grammar,  if 
he  had  any,  we  told  Jake  that  all  that  could  be  done  was  to  "  put 
our  trust  in  the  Lord  and  keep  our  powder  dry," — or  our  cane 
faggots,  which  amounted  to  the  same  thing  as  powder,  in  our 
case. 

"  Well,  I  ol'ays  did  trust  in  the  Lord,  an'  al'ays  was  purty  good, 
too,  but  what'll  we  do  jist  now — are  they  very  dangerous?  " 

We  told  him  they  were  prairie  wolves,  and  they  were  not  apt  to 
be  very  dangerous,  unless  driven  to  bravery  by  hunger,  and  were 


64  Sketches  of  the  West. 

in  large  numbers.  And  then  another  howl  came  up  from  the 
flats  not  far  off. 

"Oh,  dear  there's  another  one!"  exclaimed  Jake;  "Oh,  if 
mother  and  pap  know'd  we'sgoin'  to  be  eat  up  with  wolves — wah, 
wah,  boo-o-o-o!" 

Jake  was  now^  on  his  feet,  prancing  and  dancing  about  like  a 
chicken  with  the  pip  as  he  peered  out  into  the  surrounding  dark- 
ness; the  howls  became  more  frequent,  and  from  various  quarters, 
showing  that  the  creatures  had  scented  what  they  thought 
would  prove  a  good  midnight  supper.  In  less  than  an  hour 
from  the  time  the  first  wolf  was  heard,  there  were  at  least  a 
dozen  in  a  pack,  vent\iring  quite  uncomfortably  close  to  the  two 
original  "tramps "  of  the  state  of  Iowa.  Jake  had  grown  almost 
frantic  with  terror,  and  he  had  not  only  repeated  all  the  lamen- 
tations of  woe  he  could  think  of,  a  hundred  times,  but  had  been 
mindful  of  his  devotional  duties  as  well;  hoping  against  hope 
that  he  might  be  delivered  from  the  snarling,  snapping,  howling 
horde  that  surrounded  us.  The  writer  should  have  been  in  full 
sympathy  with  Jake  in  his  trepidation,  had  it  not  been  for  three 
reasons:  We  had  heard  wolves  before;  these  were  only  prairie 
wolves  with  more  noise  than  bravery,  and  even  if  they  dared 
assail  us,  our  dry  torches  would  drive  them  away.  After  they 
had  grown  quite  bold,  and  presumed  to  approach  within  a  few 
rods  of  us,  and  after  poor  Jake  had  suffered  a  deep  repentance, 
we  gave  him  a  bundle  of  dry  cane,  and  taking  another  ourself , 
we  told  him,  the  moment  we  lighted  them,  to  follow,  or  run  with 
us  directly  toward  them.  Jake  trembled  out,  "Oh  Lordy,"  at 
the  idea,  but  in  an  instant  both  torches  were  aflame,  and  with  a 
yell  we  sprang  tow^ard  them  with  a  perfect  flambeau  of  fire;  ere 
they  could  realize  their  situation  we  w^ere  almost  among  them, 
brandishing  our  fiery  weapons  in  all  directions  as  if  determined 
to  fire  every  one  of  their  bushy  tails;  the  animals  were  taken  all 
by  surprise  by  the  sudden  onslaught,  and  with  dispairing  howls 
they  flew  for  their  lives  toward  the  cane-cover  from  which  they 
came.  Quickly  returning  and  lighting  others,  we  again  with 
frantic  yells,  and  swaying  our  torches,  pursued  to  the  very  low 
lands,  while  our  enemies  could  be  heard  flying  through  the  dry 
brakes  in  all  directions,  yelping  and  howling  until  lost  in  the  dis- 


Sketches  of  the  West.  65 

tance.  Then,  ere  our  torches  were  entirely  consumed  we  returned 
again  to  our  camp,  with  a  general  shout  of  victory,  and  a  "  Thank 
the  good  Lordy!  "  from  Jake. 

The  remainder  of  the  night  was  spent  in  discussing  the  subject 
of  "  wolf,"  and  kindred  topics,  as  well  as  the  prospect  of  finding 
work  the  next  day.  At  the  earliest  gray  of  dawn,  we  were  again 
on  the  road,  very  weary  from  the  effects  of  the  excitement  of  the 
night  just  passed  on  this  lonely  and  dreary  waste. 

At  noon  we  arrived  at  a  settlement  and  were  treated  to  a  plain 
but  substantial  meal  at  the  home  of  a  pioneer,  but  found  no 
likely  place  at  which  to  apply  for  employment,  until  about  sun- 
down, when  we  came  to  the  home  of  an  extensive  and  well-to-do 
farmer,  where  we  called.  His  wife,  in  answer  to  our  inquiries  for 
employment,  said  her  husband  was  out  in  a  distant  field,  but 
w^ould  be  in  before  long,  and  it  was  probable  he  could  do  some- 
thing for  us;  in  the  meantime  the  good  woman  asked  us  to  sit 
down  and  partake  of  a  bowl  of  milk  and  bread,  which  we  gladly 
did.  We  were  about  finishing  our  repast  as  the  farmer  entered, 
and  his  wife  made  known  the  object  of  our  call,  when  he  flew  into 
a  terrible  rage,  and  threatened  that  unless  we  got  off  his  place 
instanter  he  would  blow  our  brains  out  with  his  shot-gun.  He 
offered  no  explanation  of  his  conduct,  and  indeed  we  asked  for 
none;  we  went,  and  did  not  stand  upon  the  order  of  our  going. 
But,  as  we  passed  out  of  the  gate,  we  could  not  resist  doffing  our 
hats  and  bowing  thanks  to  the  good  but  terrified  woman  who 
stood  in  the  door.  This  scare  was  almost  equal  to  a  wolf-fright, 
as  we  both  decided,  after  getting  entirely  out  of  danger. 

That  night  we  stayed  with  an  extremely  poor  family  living  a 
little  off  the  road.  They  bade  us  welcome  to  their  very  humble 
home,  and  gave  us  liberally  of  the  little  they  had  to  eat.  He  had 
come  to  that  country  but  a  year  before,  lived  on  a  rented  piece  of 
land,  and  as  he  had  no  team  to  work  it,  nor  cows  or  other  prop- 
erty, he  had  made  extremely  poor  headway  at  supporting  himself 
and  wife  and  their  nine  daughters  ranging  from  one  to  sixteen 
years  of  age.  After  we  had  partaken  of  his  corn  bread  and  weak 
tea,  the  poor  man  entertained  us  until  a  late  hour  by  relating  to 
us  the  story  of  his  life,  from  a  young  man,  which  was  certainly 
the  most  eventful  and  thrilling  narrative  we  had  ever  listened  to. 


QG  Sketches  of  the  West. 

It  consisted  of  eras  of  misfortune  and  deepest  poverty,  one 
only  differing  from  another,  as  time  rolled  on  its  additional 
misery  and  distress.  Yet,  after  all,  he  seemed  to  enjoy  reciting 
it,  and  being  a  glib  talker,  his  story  was  filled  with  deepest 
interest.  He  said  he  did  not  know  how  he  came  to  be  as  well  off 
as  he  was;  and  indeed  it  was  surprising  that  he  or  any  member 
of  his  family  were  alive,  even  allowing  only  half  of  all  he  related, 
to  be  true,  and  he  told  a  frank,  straightfoward  tale,  and  was 
apparantly  honest  in  all  he  said.  Our  weary  limbs  rested  well  on 
a  pile  of  hay  in  the  loft  that  night,  and  in  the  morning  after  eat- 
ing very  sparingly — for  our  conscience  would  not  permit  of  our 
doing  full  justice  to  the  meal — we  bade  adieu  to  our  kind  friends 
and  wishing  them  better  success  for  the  future,  we  once  more 
struck  the  road  in  quest  of  either  fortune  or  misfortune.  But, 
during  the  whole  day  we  could  not  banish  the  recollection  of  this 
poor,  and  hospitable  family  from  our  mind  and  this  tended  to 
soften  our  murmurs  against  our  own  hard  lot. 

When  night  again  overtook  us  we  had  arrived  at  the  beautiful 
capital  of  Cedar  county— Tipton.  We  had  traveled  and  fasted 
nearly  all  day,  and  as  we  entered  the  town,  we  rested  on  the  steps 
of  the  flouring  mill  of  the  place,  and  after  a  little  time  the  writer 
entered  and  asked  the  benevolent-looking  old  miller  for  a  quart 
of  wheat,  which  he  cheerfully  poured  into  our  hat.  We  returned 
to  Jake  with  our  prize,  and  while  he  sat  devouring  our  singular 
repast,  the  old  miller  came  to  the  door,  and  gazed  curiously  at  us. 
Coming  down  and  taking  a  sent  nearby  he  asked  us  who  we  were, 
where  we  were  going  and  how  we  came  to  be  so  hungry,  etc.  We 
briefly  related  our  history,  adding  that  we  were  in  search  of 
employment,  being  anxious  to  earn  money  enough  to  reach  our 
yet  distant  destination.  After  hearing  us  through  he  said  we 
had  indeed  been  having  a  hard  time  of  it;  and,  as  our  statements 
seemed  honest,  he  would  give  us  lodging  at  his  home  for  the 
night,  and  even  for  a  couple  of  days,  until  we  could  look  for  a 
situation.  We  grasped  his  hand  and  thanked  him  with  tears  in 
our  eyes  for  his  noble  generosity — Jake  had  done  the  crying  thus 
far  on  the  whole  trip,  and  now  it  was  our  turn. 

We  found  the  miller's  wife  to  be  as  hospitable  as  himself,  and 
we  were  made  most  cordially  at  home  despite  the  fact  that  we 


Sketches  of  the  West.  67 

had  grown  seedy  and  wayworn;  After  supper,  however,  we 
repaired  to  the  mill-pond  and  made  all  the  improvements  possible 
in  our  appearance,  and  while  making  our  toilets  resolved  in  order 
that  we  might  not  intrude  unnecessarily  upon  our  kind  friends, 
to  bestir  ourselves  early  on  the  morrow  in  search  of  work. 

When  morning  came,  and  breakfast  was  over,  we  started  for  a 
tour  about  the  adjacent  country;  and  after  many  applications 
Jake  obtained  employment  in  a  brick-yard  at  fifty  cents  a  day 
and  board.  We  returned  in  the  evening,  and  on  the  following 
morning  Jake  wended  his  way  to  his  new  home,  which  was  about 
two  miles  from  the  village.  His  work  was  very  hard  and  rough 
but  he  faithfully  toiled  all  that  summer  and  till  late  in  the 
autumn,  among  the  soft  bricks  and  in  the  clay-pits,  saving  his 
money  and  gaining  the  good  opinion  of  his  employer. 

Of  course,  the  writer  was  too  light  a  weight  as  yet  to  perform 
any  very  heavy  labor,  and  so  we  had  to  look  about  for  some 
occupation  that  would  come  within  the  scope  of  our  ability.  Our 
greatest  concern,  however  having  been  to  see  our  companion 
provided  for,  joy  was  complete  when  he  had  obtained  a  "home." 
We  felt,  as  we  must  confess,  a  real  sadness  as  we  parted  with 
Jake — he  going  to  the  brick-yard,  and  we  on  another  tour  about 
the  neighboring  country.  After  traveling  nearly  all  day  without 
getting  either  work  or  anything  to  eat,  we  retraced  our  steps  to 
the  village,  with  a  sad  heart  and  aching  limbs.  As  we  passed 
down  the  principal  street,  we  accidentally  looked  up  and  read  the 
following  sign:  "Tipton  Advertiser— Printing  Office."  Why  we 
suddenly  became  possessed  of  the  idea  of  going  up  stairs  into 
this  newspaper  office  to  apply  for  a  situation — in  the  last  occupa- 
tion we  should,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  have  thought  of — 
we  have  never  been  able  to  understand  to  this  day.  Nevertheless, 
go  up  we  did,  and  as  we  cautiously  and  diffidently  entered  the 
strange  place  we  seemed  to  become  impressed  with  a  sort  of  queer 
sensation,  and  even  after  entering  the  main  office,  we  were  on  the 
very  point  of  turning  and  running  down  stairs  again,  ere  we  might 
be  discovered — but  it  was  too  late.  The  foreman  of  the  place,  as 
we  afterward  found  him  to  be,  hailed  us  with,  "Heyo,  young 
man,  w^hat  can  I  do  for  you?"  We  approached  nearer,  and  in  a 
stammering  way  asked  if  the  proprietor  was  in.     "  Yes,  he's  right 


68  Sketches  of  the  West. 


in  the  next  room — the  editorial  room — would  you  like  to  see 
him?"  We  almost  choked  as  we  gasped  out  that  we  should  like 
to  see  him  if  he  was  not  particularly  engaged.  "  All  right,  come 
this  way,"  said  the  foreman,  and  he  opened  the  door  and  ushered 
us  into  the  presence  of  the  editor,  saying:  "Judge  here  is  a 
young  hopeful  who  says  he  would  like  to  interview  the  editor;" 
and  then  he  turned  and  went  back  into  the  main  office.  The 
editor  was  a  middle-aged  man,  large,  a  far  more  than  ordinarily 
fine-looking  gentleman,  well-dressed,  with  a  kindly  face  and  sort 
of  fun-loving  eyes.  As  we  gazed  at  him  for  an  instant,  our  knees 
fairly  knocked  together,  and  we  felt  as  though  if  we  didn't  sink 
through  the  floor,  we  should  feel  ever  so  thankful  if  some  seen  or 
unseen  hand  would  throw  us  out  at  the  window,  ere  he  spoke,  or 
ive  were  compelled  to  speak  to  him.  As  we  stood  by  the  door- 
casing  cogitating  upon  our  ridiculous  position,  the  editor  swung 
around  on  his  chair,  and  for  a  full  half  minute  said  not  a  word, 
as  he  eyed  us  sharply  from  head  to  foot.  Pretty  soon  he  sort  of 
half  smiled  and  said  : 

"  You  want  to  seethe  editor,  do  you,  you  young  straddle-bug?" 

We  ahemed  and  hawed,  and  made  out  to  say  "  yes  sir,"  though 
we  never  meant  "no  sir,"  more  emphatically  in  all  our  born  days. 

"Well,  sir,"  he  continued,  do  you  want  to  whip  an  editor,  or 
anything  of  that  sort?" 

"N-o  s-i-r,"  we  replied. 

"Do  you  want  to  subscribe  for  my  very  excellent  paper?" 

^'  I  have  nothing  to  pay  with,"  we  answered. 

"Well,  what  the  jumping  John  Rogers  do  you  want  with  the 
editor,  anyway?" 

"When  I  came  up  stairs,  I  intended  to  ask  if  you  had  any  work 
that  I  could  do:  but  I  don't  suppose  you  have?"  we  made  out  to 
say. 

"Work  to  do!  what  could  you  do  in  a  printing-office?" 

That  was  a  poser,  and  we  frankly  told  him  we  did  not  know; 
but  that  we  could  try  to  do  something,  if  he  had  anything  that  a 
common  boy  could  work  at. 

"  Come  over  here,"  he  said,  "  and  sit  down  till  I  look  you  over 
a  little — there;  sit  right  there,  till  I  gaze  at  you." 

What  a  "funny  man,"  thought  we  as  we  hesitatingly  seated 


Sketches  of  the  West. 


ourself  before  him;  we  should  have  given  all  the  work  we  ex- 
pected to  perform  for  the  next  six  months,  to  be  again  down 
stairs  and  in  the  open  air  of  freedom  once  more. 

"Now,  you  young  catfish,"  he  began,  as  he  quizically  eyed  us, 
"  what's  your  name?" 

We  told  him  what  it  was,  in  full. 

"Where  did  you  come  from?" 

"From  Pennsylvania,  sir." 

"  Is  this  your  first  trip  to  golden  sunset  land?" 

"No  sir;  I  spent  a  year  and  a  half  on  the  Minnesota  border, 
and  am  on  my  way  to  that  Territory  again,  but  I  got  out  of  mon- 
ey, and  am  hunting  employment,  that  I  may  earn  money  enough 
to  continue  my  journey  to  St.  Paul." 

"Then  you've  traveled  some?" 

"Yes  sir— a  little." 

"How  did  it  happen  that  you  came  into  a  newspaper  office  to 
find  work?" 

"I  have  been  in  search  of  work  for  two  days  among  the  farm- 
ers, without  finding  any;  and  as  I  was  coming  down  street  I  hap- 
pened to  see  your  sign,  and  thought  I  would  come  up  and  see  if 
you  needed  a  boy." 

"Do  you  think  you  would  make  a  good  'devil' in  a  printing 
office?" 

"Agood  w-h-a-t?" 

"A  good  'devil' — you  know  the  boy  in  a  printing  office  is 
always  called  the  'printer's  devil,' and  most  of  them  are  first- 
class  devils.  I  have  one  now  who  is  a  finished  young  devil,  but 
he  is  not  a  good  'printer's  devil,'  nevertheless." 

"What  part  of  the  business  do  you  expect  a  good  'devil 'to 
do?"  we  ventured  to  inquire. 

"Well,  young  man,  a  good  devil  about  a  printing  office  gets  up 
with  the  chickens,  every  morning;  he  goes  to  bed  at  night  just 
when  there  is  nobody  around  any  more  to  order  him  about;  he 
does  everything  with  a  pleasant  smile;  he  sweeps  the  office,  saws 
the  day's  wood,  carries  in  a  supply  of  water,  and  dusts  the  furni- 
ture before  breakfast;  then,  after  a  frugal  meal,  he  does  all  man- 
ner of  chores  about  the  place,  runs  errands,  attends  to  all  the 
dirty  and  disagreeable  little  jobs,  rolls  the  ink-roller  on  press- 


70  Sketches  of  the  West. 

days,  carries  papers,  folds  papers,  makes  fires,  and  in  short  any- 
thing under  Heaven  that  anybody  about  the  premises  can  think 
of  to  keep  him  busy.  The  wages  for  the  first  six  months,  if  a 
good  devil,  is  board,  one  suit  of  cheap  clothing  and  fifty  cents  a 
week;  after  that,  according  to  merit," 

We  intimated  to  him  that  it  was  a  less  money-making  business 
than  we  had  supposed,  but  we  did  not  know  but  that  we  should 
have  to  try  it,  at  any  rate  until  we  could  do  better. 

"  Well,  my  boy,"  he  continued,  "  I  have  been  wanting  to  get  a 
good  boy  for  some  time;  the  one  I've  got  now  wouldn't  make  good 
fish-bait;  you  seem  to  be  frank  in  your  story,  and  if  you  will  go  to 
work,  and  turn  out  well,  I  may  do  a  little  better  by  you  than 
that."  Accordingly,  it  was  arranged  that  we  come  early  the  next 
morning,  and  that  w^e  board  with  the  editor's  family. 

Our  life  in  Tipton  would  doubtless  have  been  uneventful  had 
we  not  been  made  a  member  of  a  magnificent  military  company 
— the  "Tipton  Guards" — shortly  after  our  enstallment  as  head 
"devil "  in  the  Advertiser  office.  Old  Capt.  Hammond,  formerly 
of  Pittsburgh,  was  the  commander  of  the  company,  and  Judge 
Spicer  was  second  in  command.  At  that  time  a  strong  militia 
force  was  kept  in  Iowa,  and  there  were  in  the  state  fifty  or  more 
companies  of  as  finely  drilled  soldiers  as  could  be  found  in  the 
Union  army,  several  years  later.  The  Dubuque  Rifies  were  con- 
sidered the  finest  company  in  all  the  state,  up  to  the  time  of  the 
state  fair  in  the  year  of  which  we  speak;  on  that  occasion,  how- 
ever, when  nearly  the  whole  state  force  were  assembled  for 
review,  Captain  Hammond  and  his  Tipton  guards  had  the 
extreme  satisfaction  of  carrying  off  the  prize  for  the  best  company 
at  the  state  parade,  both  for  dicipline  and  perfection  in  drill. 
The  prize — a  gorgeous  stand  of  colors — was  handsomely  won, 
and  as  handsomely  accorded  by  the  vanquished  troopers. 

A  month  or  two  after  we  had  entered  upon  our  career  as  a 
frisky  junior  in  the  "art  preservative  of  all  arts,"  Judge-Lieu- 
tenant Spicer  called  us  into  his  private  office  one  day  and  asked 
if  we  did  not  want  to  become  a  member  of  the  Guards — that  the 
company  numbered  over  ninety,  but  there  was  yet  room  for  four 
or  five  more  persons  who  might  be  selected  and  were  desirable. 
He  said  w^e  could  barely  come  up  to  the  required  height,  and  as 


Sketches  of  the  West.  71 

he  had  taken  "  quite  a  shme  "  to  us,  he  felt  sure  Captain  Ham- 
mond would  be  pleased  to  admit  us  as  a  member  of  the  ' '  pony 
squad"  of  his  company.  Of  course,  the  idea  of  becoming  a 
"  bold  soldier  "  was  decidedly  to  our  adventurous  taste — especially 
in  so  fine  a  company  as  the  Guards,  whom  we  had  already  seen 
on  two  parade  occasions.  We  told  the  Judge  that  we  should  be 
more  than  pleased  at  the  idea,  but  did  not  possess  the  shekels 
necessary  to  get  the  expensive  uniform  required.  To  this  he 
answered,  "Never  mind  the  uniform — I  will  take  care  of  that 
myself.  Come  with  me  down  to  our  company  tailor  and  be 
measured  for  your  suit,  and  all  the  etceteras  for  the  outfit  we 
have  in  supply  in  our  armory."  So,  we  went  at  once  and  had 
our  measure  taken  for  the  garment  part  of  the  outfit,  and  there- 
after drilled  two  hours  every  day,  in  a  small  "awkward  squad," 
under  the  instruction  of  a  sergeant,  until  the  next  general  parade 
of  the  company,  we  appeared  in  the  ranks  on  the  left  wing,  in 
the  rich  and  gorgeous  full  uniform,  ready  for  immediate  and 
active  service  on  the  field. 

Captain  Hammond  had  been  an  ofiicer  in  the  Mexican  war, 
was  a  prominent  citizen  both  in  Pennsylvania  and  his  adopted 
state  of  Iowa;  a  most  thorough  dicipiinarian,  a  polished  gentle- 
man and  a  brave  commander.  He  took  the  greatest  pride  in  his 
company,  as  the  company  certainly  did  in  him.  He  could  per- 
form any  company-movement  in  the  infantry  tactics  with  his 
command,  with  an  accuracy  that  was  simply  marvelous. 

This  is  a  description  of  the  Tipton  Guards  as  they  appeared  in 
in  the  flowery  part  of  military  life — or  military  parades — but,  on 
the  other  hand,  we  will  describe  something,  which,  in  that  day, 
was  considered  a  severe  test  in  the  less  showy  duties  of  a  soldier. 

Many  persons  will  remember  that  at  that  time  the  troubles 
with  horse-thieves  in  central  Iowa  culminated,  and  after  several 
years  of  patient  suffering  on  the  part  of  the  law-abiding  citizens 
of  the  State,  they  finally  arose  in  a  grand  army  for  self -protection 
against  almost  an  army  of  thieves  who  had  become  so  thoroughly 
organized  that  horses  were  being  run  out  of  the  country  by 
hundreds,  or  even  thousands.  As  was  subsequently  discovered, 
the  thieves  had  regular  organizations  in  every  county,  with  dis- 


SK-etches  of  tlie  TT>.sf. 


trict  and  general  headquarters:  commanders-in-chief  and  subord- 
inates, with  regular  places  of  rendezvous,  while  their  lines  of 
communication  ran  clear  into  Arizona,  Texas  and  other  western 
fastnesses.  Scores  of  them  had  been  arrested--  in  various  parts 
of  the  State,  and  yet  their  numbers — or  the  numbers  of  their 
depredations — seemed  to  increase,  and  even  those  arrested  were 
seldom  convicted,  for  some  inexplicable  reason.  At  last  as  before 
stated,  the  citizens  rose  in  squads  of  hundreds,  in  various  local- 
ities, and  simultaneously,  as  if  by  previous  arrangement,  caught 
all  the  thieves  they  could  find,  or  those  against  whom  well 
grounded  suspicion  rested,  and  ornamented{?)  the  limbs  of  the 
forest  with  their  dead  bodies. 

Of  course,  all  these  proceedings,  while  they  were  secretly 
approved  by  all  classes,  were  opposed  to  the  dignity  and  order  of 
the  State,  etc.,  and  the  mobs  that  were  everywhere  sweeping  all 
law  before  them  had  to  be  suppressed,  and  the  malitia  in  the 
vicinity  of  their  operations  were  called  out  for  that  purpose.  It 
happened  that  Cedar  county  and  the  Tipton  Guards  were  seem- 
ingly near  the  middle  of  the  territory  being  overrun  by  the  mobs, 
and  the  result  was  that  the  Guards  were  called  out  in  the  outset, 
and  kept  on  forced  marches  first  in  one  direction  and  then  in 
one  direction  and  then  another,  by  night  and  day,  for  several 
weeks. 

A  mob  of  eight  hundred  men,  early  in  the  fray,  caught  two  of 
the  thieves  who  had  been  operating  in  the  vicinity  of  Tipton. 
They  were  captured  in  an  oak  thicket  about  three  miles  from  the 
town;  word  was  brought  to  town,  and  under  orders  from  the 
State  the  Guards  flew  to  arms,  and  marched  by  double  quick  to 
the  seat  of  the  trouble.  The  mob  threatened  to  clean  out  the 
militia  if  they  dared  to  interfere,  and  when  we  arrived,  prepara- 
tions were  being  made  to  string  up  the  two  pleading  thieves, 
Capt.  Hammond,  however,  was  not  the  man  to  quail  in  the  pres- 
ence of  danger,  and  the  threatening  mob  knew  it.  Though  the 
mob  could  have  annihilated  the  company  at  one  fell  swoop,  had 
they  been  organized — and  their  wrath  at  the  idea  of  losing  their 
prisoners  was  sufficient  to  incite  them  to  fatal  resistance. 

Our  commander,  demanded,  in  the  name  of  the  State,  the  sur- 
render  of  the  two  prisoners,  which  was  angrily  refused  by  the 


Sketches  of  the  West. 


spokesman  of  the  mob,  aad  Captain  H.  ordered  his  company  to 
'*  Load,"  and  "Fix  bayonets!"  The  mob,  as  the  soldiers  went 
through  all  the  necessary  manual  in  obedience  to  the  order,  be- 
came almost  hushed,  as  they  watched  with  unmistakable  admir- 
ation the  perfection  with  which  the  order  was  fulfilled.  The 
ropes  were  already  around  the  necks  of  the  cringing  prisoners, 
and  the  mob,  which  had  been  a  swaying,  cursing  mass  of  men, 
now  stood  like  statues — not  a  word  being  spoken  to  break  the 
stillness,  save  the  quiet  yet  earnest  orders  of  our  commander. 
We  took  note  of  the  two  or  three  minutes  that  passed  there,  as 
being  a  space  of  time  that  "  tried  men's  souls."  There  we  were, 
one  hundred  men  under  orders,  against  eight  times  our  number 
of  sorely  wronged  and  determined  fellow-citizens,  who  had  been 
maddened  by  the  outrages  perpetrated  vipon  them,  to  the  course 
they  were  pursuing:  they  had,  too,  entered  into  a  compact  with 
thousands  of  other  citizens  throughout  that  region  to  rise  in  their 
might,  and  never  cease  the  "good  work  "  until  the  last  horse- 
thief  had  expired,  at  the  hands  of  an  outraged  populace. 

At  last,  the  company,  with  their  bayonets  fixed  and  pieces 
loaded,  came  to  a  "shoulder  arms."  Then,  Captain  H.,  with  a 
wonderful  coolness  and  precision  turned  and  saluted  the  mob, 
saying  :  "  Men,  in  the  name  of  the  State  of  Iowa,  and  by  author- 
ity of  the  governor  thereof,  I  demand  the  surrender  of  the  prison- 
ers into  my  hands — this  is  my  final  demand,  and  must  be  acted 
upon  instantly,  or  I  shall  move  to  their  rescue  !" 

A  slight  swaying  was  now  noticeable,  and  a  low  muttering  hum 
began  to  vibrate  through  the  mob,  which  grew  louder  and  more 
general  as  the  moments  passed,  with  no  direct  response  to  the 
command  of  our  captain.  At  last  the  order  came,  "  Charge  bay- 
onets— forward,  double-quick,  march !"  The  company  sprang 
forward  in  solid  line,  and  as  they  advanced  with  thundering 
tread,  the  mob  fell  back  in  confusion  before  the  wall  of  bayonets, 
and  left  the  prisoners  to  be  captured  rather  than  to  be  surren- 
dered. Many  a  heart  beat  lighter,  as  a  hollow  square  was  formed 
and  the  prisoners  placed  therein,  in  which  position  they  were 
conducted  safely  to  town,  the  mob  following  closely  behind,  hoot- 
ing and  howling,  firing  their  guns  and  pistols  in  the  air,  and 
making  the  most  threatening  demonstrations. 


74  Sketches  of  the  West. 

The  prisoners  were  confined  for  the  night  in  the  court  house, 
with  a  strong  guard  both  inside  and  out,  and  ere  night  came  on 
the  mob  had,  to  all  appearances,  dispersed.  In  fact,  it  was  be- 
lieved that  they  had  given  up  their  plans  of  violence,  and  had 
departed  to  effect  the  capture  of  others,  whose  whereabouts  were 
understood.  It  was  not  until  nearly  daylight,  when  the  town  and 
the  company — now  completely  off  their  guard — were  fast  asleep, 
and  even  the  court-house  guards  had  grown  lax  in  their  vigils, 
that  all  surmises  as  to  the  movements  of  the  mob  were  found  to 
be  false.  The  gray  dawn  of  morning  was  made  hideous  by  their 
yells,  and  the  carnage  of  their  onslought,  as  they  came  rushing 
from  all  sides  into  the  court-Tiouse  square,  bearing  immense  tim- 
bers, with  which  to  crush  in  the  doors.  Ere  the  company  could 
rally,  or  people  could  get  dressed,  the  wooden  court-house  had 
been  nearly  demolished,  the  shrieking  prisoners  dragged  out,  hur- 
ried into  the  suburbs  of  the  village  and  hung  to  a  tree  until  they 
were  dead — the  company  arriving  on  the  scene  only  to  see  the 
mob  dispersing  in  the  uncertain  light  of  morning,  and  to  witness 
the  last  death  struggle  of  the  two  poor  wretches — Gleason  and 
Soper,  both  young  men,  who  had  been  among  the  leaders  of  the 
local  branch  of  the  great  gang  of  thieves.  The  company  cut  down 
their  bodies,  took  them  back  to  the  court-house,  and  in  less  than 
an  hour  from  the  time  the  first  yell  of  the  mob  was  heard, 
the  corpses  of  the  two  prisoners  were  laid  out  in  the  now  nearly 
demolished  court-house,  awaiting  the  claims  of  friends,  if  they 
had  any.  Thus  ended  our  first  campaign  of  actual  service,  and 
the  company  was  disbanded,  subject  to  call. 

But  our  company,  above  all  others  in  the  State,  seemed  to  be 
unfortunately  located  to  gain  much  rest.  Every  day  or  two,  and 
sometimes  in  the  blackest  hour  of  night,  the  long  roll  of  the  com- 
pany's drums  would  summon  us  to  the  public  square,  for  an  ex- 
pedition in  some  direction,  in  response  to  a  summons  for  help; 
and,  though  every  member  came  to  arms  in  an  instant,  the  com- 
pany marching  with  the  utmost  haste  and  promptness — night  or 
day,  rain  or  shine — they  neyer  encountered  any  of  the  mobs  in  a 
pitched  battle,  though  on  several  occasions  bloodshed  was  barely 
prevented.  This  fact,  we  attributed,  and  correctly,  we  think,  to 
the  fact  that  the  mobs  and  their  leaders  well  knew  the  character 


Sketches  of  the  West. 


of  the  man  who  commanded  the  Tipton  Guards.  They  knew  that 
Captain  Hammond  would  not  hesitate  when  in  the  line  of  his 
duty,  no  matter  what  stood  in  the  way,  nor  how  great  the  odds 
were  against  him. 

On  one  occasion  we  made  a  forced  march  to  a  place  where  an 
old  man  and  his  two  sons  were  said  to  be  in  the  hands  of  the 
mob,  but  hearing  of  our  approach,  they  hastened  their  work,  and 
by  the  time  the  troops  arrived,  they  were  just  passing  out  of  sight 
over  the  rolling  prairie,  leaving  their  victims  hanging  to  a  wide- 
spreading  tree,  shot  full  of  holes,  while  pinned  on  the  breast  of 
the  father  was  this  card  : 

"These  men  gave  succor  and  aid  to  horse-thieves,  and  their 
place  was  a  safe  retreat  for  thieves  in  distress.  We  know  this 
for  a  certainty,  and  for  this  they  have  died  at  our  hands.  Take 
them  now,  we  are  through  with  them.     Signed,  "  Regulators." 

When  they  saw  our  approach,  they  fired  a  salute,  waved  their 
hats,  and  disappeared  in  the  distance,  whilst  the  company  return- 
ed home  with  the  dead. 

Another  time,  the  company  was  summoned  to  duty  about  mid- 
night, of  a  terrible  stormy  and  gloomy  night.  A  messenger  had 
arrived  from  Mechanicsville — if  we  remember  correctly — bringing 
the  news  that  a  mob  of  ten  or  twelve  hundred  men  had  entered 
that  town  in  the  evening  with  several  prisoners,  and  when  the 
messenger  left  they  were  being  put  through  the  form  of  a  hasty 
trial,  preparatory  to  being  "  swung  off."  That  they  swore  if  any 
interference  was  interposed  by  the  authorities,  they  had  better 
say  their  prayers,  etc.  The  messenger  said  they  were  in  such 
great  force  that  they  would  likely  take  their  time,  and  he  thought 
if  we  proceeded  promptly,  and  approached  the  place  cautiously, 
we  might  effect  a  rescue. 

While  the  company  gathered  in  the  square.  Captain  Hammond 
summoned  a  lot  of  teams,  and  in  a  surprisingly  short  time  ten  or 
twelve  wagons  left  Tipton,  pell-mell  through  the  mud  and  rain, 
loaded  with  troops,  headed  for  Mechanicsville,  a  dozen  or  fifteen 
miles  away. 

Just  before  reaching  the  town,  the  wagons  were  halted  and  the 
company  formed,  and  after  loading  and  fixing  bayonets  they 
advanced  in  silence,  making  a  slight  detour,  so  as  to  enter  the 


76  Sketches  of  the  West. 


place  from  an  unlocked  for  quarter.  It  was  a  diflBcult  feat,  as  it 
was  excessively  dark,  and  a  portion  of  the  ground  was  very 
rough.  At  last,  however,  the  little  army  emerged  from  a  cover 
of  undergrowth,  nearly  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  town,  and 
stood  suddenly  on  the  brow  of  a  hill  overlooking  the  village.  Such 
a  sight  as  met  our  gaze  was  awe-inspiring,  to  say  the  least.  Down 
in  the  village,  by  the  glaring  light  of  immense  bonfires  could  be 
seen  a  rude  scaffold  with  bodies  hanging  thereon,  and  a  hooting, 
howling  mob,  like  specters,  running  to  and  fro  in  the  wierd  light 
and  apparently  preparing  to  fly  from  the  place.  We  afterward 
learned  that  they  had  heard  of  our  approach  and  had  hurried  up 
the  execution.  Captain  Hammond,  upon  seeing  that  he  was 
again  thwarted,  at  once  ordered  a  countermarch,  silently  sought 
the  wagons,  and  just  before  noon  the  jaded  horses  and  weary 
company  arrived  at  their  homes. 

This  was  among  the  very  last  of  our  expeditions,  and  the  mobs 
— we  think  fortunately  for  the  State  and  its  people — carried  the 
day,  in  spite  of  the  utmost  vigilance  on  the  part  of  the  authorities, 
and  succeeded  in  thoroughly  cleaning  out  and  breaking  up  the 
army  of  horse-thieves  who  had  long  maintained  a  perfect  reign  of 
terror  throughout  the  rural  districts. 

But  one  more  incident  occurred  in  our  experience  as  a  member 
of  the  Tipton  Guards,  worthy  of  mention:  It  will  be  remembered, 
also,  that  this  was  the  year  of  the  Spirit  Lake  massacre — wherein 
the  infamous  Sioux  chief,  Ink-pa-du-ta,  and  his  bloodthirsty  In- 
dian followers,  slaughtered  the  few  families  who  had  settled  on 
the  borders  of  the  beautiful  Spirit  Lake,  up  on  the  northern 
boundary  of  Iowa.  Word  of  the  terrible  affair  was  swiftly  brought 
to  the  governor  of  the  state,  and  he  in  turn  promptly  telegraphed 
to  several  companies  of  the  State  troops  to  repair  to  the  scene  of 
the  bloody  massacre  with  the  utmost  haste. 

Of  course  the  Tipton  Guards  were  among  the  companies  ordered 
to  go  forward,  and  now  there  seemed  to  be  sanguinary  business 
ahead,  sure  enough. 

For  such  an  expedition  a  considerable  preparation  had  to  be 
made,  but  if  any  commander  could  accomplish  speed,  that  one 
was  Hammond;  and  instantly  on  receipt  of  orders,  he  had  every 
man  summoned  to  the  parade  grounds  by  the  long-role-beat,  read 


Sketches  of  the  West.  11 

them  the  order  from  the  goverDor,  and  then  told  them  that 
although  their  fortitude  and  bravery  had  been  tried  to  the  quick, 
that  duty  still  called — this  time  to  make  all  haste  to  the  frontier 
for  the  protection  of  defenseless  men,  women  and  children  from 
massa^cre  by  the  ruthless  savage.  He  knew  that  not  one 
would  flinch  or  demur,  notwithstanding  the  severe  trials  they 
had  already  undergone,  as  citizen  soldiers. 

There  were  many  of  tfie  company  who,  by  this  time,  began  to 
see  i'hiit  playing  soldier,  and  being  a  soldier,  were  two  altogether 
different  things;  and  although  they  began  their  preparations  for 
a  protracted  absence  with  alacrity,  their  were  many  wry  faces 
over  it,  and  a  few  quaking  knees,  at  thought  of  being  ordered  to 
the  fronteir  to  fight  Indians. 

To  the  great  relief  of  nearly  all,  just  about  the  time  Captain 
Hammond  had  his  company  in  complete  readiness  for  a  campaign, 
and  was  on  the  very  eve  of  departure — the  good-byes,  farewells, 
and  last  fond  embraces  had  been  said  and  enacted  between  lovers 
and  sweethearts,  husbands  and  wives,  sons  and  parents — a  mes- 
sage came,  countermanding  the  order,  and  bidding  us  hold  our- 
selves in  readiness  for  orders,  instead.  But,  further  orders  never 
came,  and  thus  ended  the  active  service  of  the  Tipton  Guards, 
during  the  time  the  writer  was  identified  with  the  organization. 

At  the  end  of  seven  or  eight  months — having  in  the  mean  time 
been  promoted  to  the  exalted  position  of  a  sergeant  in  the  Guards 
— we  obtained  an  honorable  discharge,  canceled  all  our  obliga- 
tions to  our  big-hearted  employer,  arranged  with  Jake — who  had 
saved  up  his  earnings — to  continue  our  journey  to  Minnesota,  and 
we  arrived  in  due  time  in  St.  Paul,  with  no  further  incident 
worthy  of  especial  mention,  after  a  lapse  of  nearly  nine  months 
since  leaving  home.  This  was  our  second  and  last  trip  to  the 
Northwest,  and  the  singular  "accident"  of  our  having,  in  our 
extremity  gone  into  the  Tipton  Advertiser  office  to  "get  a  job," 
seems  to  have  decided  our  life-work — that  of  a  printer  and  jour- 
nalist. 

Jake,  after  "roughing  it"  on  the  frontier  for  a  year  or  two, 
returned  home,  married,  and  settled  down  to  the  noble  task  of 
raising  stock,  and  a  large  family. 


"A  MIGHTY  CLOSE  SHAVE." 

ONCE  upon  a  time,   when    Minnesota  was  an    extremely 
young  commonwealth,  and  when  the  writer    was    but  a 
nimble  youth,  we  had  an  adventure  with   wolves;  which, 
among    several    other  adventures  with  these    denizens  of  the 
forest,  during  those  primitive  days,  always  made  us  despise  a 
wolf. 

"Billy"  was  a  frontier  chum  of  ours,  and  although  consider- 
ably older,  was  but  little  larger  of  stature  than  ourself .  He  was 
a  famous  hunter,  for  so  young  a  man — small,  wiry,  with  a  sharp 
eye,  fearless,  and  well  versed  in  woodcraft.  We  had  often  accom- 
panied Billy  in  his  whole  day  chases,  after  deer;  he  would  start 
out  as  soon  as  it  was  light,  in  a  cold  winter  morning,  with  his 
tomahawk  and  knife  in  secure  position,  and  after  taking  a  fresh 
chew,  he  would  say:  "Now  follow  me,  and  step  in  my  tracks,  and 
I  guess  you  can  keep  up."  At  this  he  would  strike  what  he 
called  a  "lope,"  and  we,  adopting  his  gate,  would  lope  after 
him.  Billy  was  a  young  man  of  very  few  words,  and  most  of 
them  were  spoken  with  such  an  air  of  mystery  that  one  had  to  be 
well  acquainted  with  him  in  order  to  catch  their  full  significance, 
especially  when  on  one  of  his  hunting  excursions.  He  would 
keep  up  a  "  lope  "  from  morning  till  night,  on  the  trail,  unless  he 
came  upon  his  game  before,  stopping  only  at  about  noon  for  ten 
minutes  to  eat  a  frozen  biscuit,  and  get  his  bearings.  We  accom- 
panied him  on  more  than  one  occasion  when  we  must  have  trav- 
eled forty  miles,  through  snow  more  than  two  feet  in  depth,  the 
temperature  many  degrees  below  zero — uphill  and  down,  through 
"  openians,"  dense  forests  and  thickets.  In  those  days  there  was 
scarcely  a  settler  in  the  big  woods,  excepting  here  and  there  along 


Sketches  of  the  West. 


on  the  river.  The  whole  region  was  an  unsettled,  unbounded  and 
almost  unexplored  wilderness,  well  inhabited,  however,  by  deer, 
bear,  wolves,  lynx,  wild  cats,  etc.,  with  here  and  there  an  en- 
campment of  wild  Sioux  Indians. 

Upon  occasions  when  Billy  failed  to  come  up  with  his  game,  he 
would  cease  the  chase  just  as  nightfall  was  approaching,  and  af- 
ter getting  his  reckoning,  would  strike  out  on  the  straight  line  for 
home.  It  was  upon  one  of  these  occasions  that  he  found  himself 
at  dark,  about  seven  miles,  on  a  direct  line,  from  our  settlement. 
He  proposed  that,  as  we  were  pretty  tired,  we  take  it  rather  leis- 
urely, and  we  would  be  able  to  make  the  distance,  if  we  did  not 
lose  our  course,  by  bedtime.  The  moon  was  shining  brightly,  but 
the  cold  had  grown  to  be  intense.  We  traveled  along  at  as  fast  a 
walk  as  our  tired  limbs  and  a  deep  snow  would  admit,  neither 
saying  anything,  more  than  an  occasional  question  and  answer. 

We  had  gone  but  a  short  distance,  however,  when  the  long 
heavy  howl  of  a  timber  wolf  was  heard  from  the  depths  of  a 
thicket  that  bordered  upon  a  little  stream  we  were  about  to  cross. 
Billy  remarked,  merely,  "that  he  was  a  big  'n."  We  said, 
we  thought,  from  the  sound,  that  he  was  big  enough  to  eat  both 
of  us,  if  he  happened  to  have  as  good  an  appetite  as  ourselves. 
We  trudged  along,  however,  and  relapsed  into  silence.  We  both 
knew,  that  during  a  long  time  of  deep  snow,  the  wolves  were  apt 
to  be  more  fierce  than  usual,  owing  to  the  difficulty  in  finding 
food;  still,  our  confidence  in  our  swiftness  of  foot,  and  great  en- 
durance, made  us  feel  tolerably  at  ease,  especially  when  we  knew 
the  deepness  of  the  snow  would  considerably  retard  the  speed  of 
the  wolves  should  they  strike  our  trail.  We  had  but  barely 
gained  the  opposite  bank  of  the  stream,  when  the  same  howl 
again  reached  our  ears,  which  was  speedily  answered  by  another 
and  another,  until  the  narrator's  hair  fairly  stood  up.  We  both 
stopped,  involuntarily,  as  it  were,  and  listened  breathlessly  for  a 
moment,  as  the  savage  howls  died  away  in  the  dark  and  silent 
woods,  only  to  be  taken  up  by  another  of  the  hungry  monsters. 
We  had  every  confidence  in  our  companion,  both  as  to  his  brav- 
ery, trueness  and  sagacity,  and  knew  that  whatever  might  befall 
us,  our  own  fate  would  also  be  Billy's  fate. 

Finally,  Billy  remarked  in  his  droll,  intrepid  manner  :  "  Home's 


80  Sketches  of  the  West. 

a  better  place  than  this  at  this  time  o'  night,  when  them  tarnal 
critters  are  talkin'  that  way — kin  ye  f oiler  me  at  a  pretty  fair 
gait,  my  lad?" 

We  told  him  we  would  try,  but  rather  intimated  to  him  that 
we  would  like  to  have  him  stay  with  us,  if  we  failed. 

"Look  here  boy,"  said  Billy,  "I  never  got  into  camp  without 
my  company;  jump  into  my  track  every  lope,  an'  it'll  be  easier  fur 
ye;  I  know  a  trail  that'll  bother  them  devils,  if  they  f oiler  us, 
and,  mind  ye,  keep  close  to  me,  an'  when  I  jump,  ye  jump,  too, 
an'  we'll  give  'em  as  neat  a  trot  as  they've  had  fur  many  a  day — 
let's  be  goin'." 

At  this,  we  started,  and  keeping  Billy's  instructions  in  mind, 
we  fell  regularly  into  his  tracks  as  fast  as  he  made  and  left  them. 
On,  on  we  went  with  measured  strides;  the  cold  had  grown  so 
terrible  that  our  feet  seemed  to  be  frozen,  though  our  body  was 
steaming  hot.  Neither  of  us  had  on  our  feet  anything  but  one 
pair  of  short-legged  woolen  socks  and  a  pair  of  boots,  which  were 
frozen  like  rocks,  and  our  feet  began  to  lose  their  feeling,  which 
was  a  bad  indication.  In  response  to  our  inquiry  as  to  how  his 
feet  felt,  Billy  said  his  didn't  feel  at  all;  and  he  said  he  reckoned 
we'd  have  to  take  our  boots  off  and  go  in  our  stocking  feet  or  else 
lose  our  toes. 

The  wolves  had  now  struck  our  trail,  as  we  could  plainly  tell, 
and  there  seemed  to  be  a  jolly  pack  of  them,  indeed.  Of  course, 
we  could  not  take  to  a  tree,  as  we  would  soon  perish  with  cold  ; 
we  could  not  stand  our  ground,  because  there  were  too  many  of 
them  to  fight  with  old-fashioned  muzzle  loading  rifles,  and  be- 
sides, our  hands  had  become  too  numb  to  load,  or  to  even  handle 
our  tomahawks  probably.  The  only  way  out  of  that  "pickle," 
as  Billy  called  it  was  to  ride  out  on  our  legs. 

The  wolves  were  evidently  gaining  on*  us  pretty  rapidly,  and 
ere  we  had  made  a  mile,  it  seeemed  as  if  pandemonium  had  been 
let  loose  at  our  heels.  As  we  leaped  over  the  bank  of  a  little  fro- 
zen brook,  Billy  stopped  suddenly  and  sat  down  on  the  snow,  as 
he  remarked:  "The  snarling  brutes  might  just  as  well  have  us 
fur  their  supper  as  fur  to  get  home  without  no  feet — we'll  do  bet- 
ter without  no  boots  on." 

At  this  he  snatched  the  boots  off  his  senseless  feet  while  we 
followed  his  example,  asking  no  qviestions. 


Sketches  of  the  M^est.  81 

"  I'll  leave  my  boots  right  here,  and  they'll  do  fur  the  hungry 
dogs  to  fight  over  fur  a  minit  or  two,  and  they'll  lose  a  little 
ground  for  their  foolishness;  you  carry  your'n  a  little  furder  on." 

Scarcely  a  dozen  seconds  were  lost  in  the  operation,  and  again 
we  went  bounding  through  the  snow,  all  the  faster  from  being 
lighter  of  foot — though  our  feet  by  this  time  had  no  more  feeling 
than  if  they  had  been  made  of  stone. 

Soon  the  pack,  as  we  could  plainly  tell,  came  upon  the  boots, 
and  for  the  space  of  half  a  minute  or  so,  wolf-jangling  of  the 
highest  order  stirred  the  monotony  of  the  wilderness.  Billy 
could  not  resist  one  of  his  quaint  remarks,  and  so,  between  jumps 
he  made  out  to  observe:  "  I  reckon  them  hounds  are  janglin'  to 
see  which'll  wear  my  boots." 

"More  likely  they're  trying  to  decide  which  shall  eat  them," 
we  suggested. 

"Well  I  reckon  they're  purty  scraggly  lookin'  boots  by  this 
time,  anyhow,"  he  returned. 

It  was  very  evident,  that  whatever  disposition  was  made  of 
them  the  pack  scented  better  game  ahead,  and  on  they  came, 
gaining  steadily  on  their  prey.  When  within  a  mile  and  a  half 
of  the  settlement,  they  got  so  near  us  that  occasionally  we  could 
hear  their  fierce  panting,  as  they  came  fiying  along  through  the 
deep  snow.  The  case  began  to  look  hopeless  indeed,  and  it  was 
evident  that  unless  some  unforseen  turn  of  fortune  came  to  pass 
in  our  favor,  another  half  mile  must  tell  the  tale  of  our  "  wiping 
out." 

It  now  resolved  itself  into  a  race  for  life,  and  no  mistake. 
Though  our  strength  began  to  rapidly  fail,  our  courage,  some- 
how, kept  up  to  a  point  beyond  what  might  have  been  expected. 
Billy,  ever  and  anon,  would  turn  his  head  and  give  us  a  word  of 
encouragement,  of  some  sort,  and  seemed  to  feel  that  the  run  for 
life  would  give  us  the  victory.  Just  as  the  wolves  came  bound- 
ing over  the  brink  of  a  small  ravine  which  we  had  just  crossed, 
Billy  said,  "  throw  your  boots  and  gun."  We  did  so,  and  in  a 
moment  more  he  threw  his  gun  also.  "  Get  your  hatchet  in  one 
hand — knife  in  the  other,"  he  said  and  both  acted  on  the  word. 

The  boots  and  guns  had  the  effect  of  somewhat  breaking  the 
gait  of  the  pack,  and  gave  us  a  little  start. 


82  Sketches  of  the  West. 

On  we  flew  w^ith  every  nerve  strained  to  the  utmost  tension, 
though  it  seemed  plain  that  they  must  overtake  us  ere  we  reached 
within  half  a  mile  of  home,  for  now  the  foremost  of  the  snarl- 
ing, panting  brutes  were  within  a  dozen  rods  of  us. 

"When  I  jump,  you  foller  me,"  said  Billy,  "fur  it's  our  only 
chance — so  don't  ye  stagger  at  it,  but  leap  just  as  I  do;  d'ye 
hear?" 

We  gasped  out,  "yes  "  and  hardly  had  we  uttered  it,  ere  Billy 
gave  a  leap  and  a  yell,  and  we  flew  after  him.  Down,  down  we 
went,  and  the  first  assurance  we  had  that  we  had  not  jumped 
from  the  top  of  the  rocky  mountains  was,  that  instead  of  contin- 
uing to  go  through  space  for  a  mile  or  so,  we  went  head  over 
heels  into  a  monster  snow  drift  about  forty  feet  below — Billy 
landing  therein  but  a  few  feet  from  where  we  struck. 

As  luck  would  have  it  we  sprained  no  joints  nor  broke  a  bone, 
though  being  somewhat  stunned  and  bruised,  and  Billy  had  been 
equally  fortunate;  and,  true  to  his  character,  he  soon  scrambled 
out  through  the  drift  and  called  out: 

"  Whar  are  ye  now,  lad?  Give  us  yer  voice  a  trifle:  fur  I  don't 
want  to  know  I  made  yer  kill  yourself — are  ye  live  un'  kickin, 
anywhere  'round  here?" 

About  at  the  conclusion  of  his  inquiries,  we  had  sufiiciently 
recovered  from  the  shock,  and  came  digging  out  at  the  lower 
side  of  the  drift  on  to  solid  footing  in  the  bottom  of  what  was 
known  as  "Big  Coulie." 

"I  thought,"  he  remarked  "that  we'd  give  them  the  slip  one 
way  if  we  couldn't  another,"  he  said  as  he  came  limping  up  to 
where  we  stood,  "  an'  now  the  tarnal  critters  can  just  howl  their 
heads  off,  up  yonder.  If  they  want  to,  but  their  too  big  cowards 
to  make  that  sort  of  jump;  an'  the  only  way  they  can  reach  us 
is  to  go  up  the  Coulie  a  mile  and  come  down  a  cross  ravine;  an' 
its  har'ly  worth  their  while,  'cause  we'll  strike  camp  now  in  a 
ten  minutes'  jog,  by  foUerin'  down  here  on  the  ice." 

Sure  enough,  we  left  the  wolves  away  up  on  the  verge  of  the 
precipice,  howling,  and  fighting  each  other  in  their  rage,  and 
soon  we  struck  the  settlement,  a  pair  of  very  sorry  looking 
hunters.  Our  hair  and  eyebrows,  and  our  clothes  were  a  mass 
of  ice  and  frost,  we  found,  all  our  toes,  heels,  and  the  sides  of 


Sketches  of  the  West. 


83 


our  feet  were  badly  frozen,  which  kept  us  within  the  log  cabin 
for  a  number  of  weeks. 

We  have  always  since  reverted  to  the  adventure  as  a  case  of 
being  "  Snatched  from  the  jaws  of  death,"  or  the  jaws  of  a  pack 
of  wolves,  which  amounts  to  the  same  thing. 

Billy  always  referred  to  it  as  "  A  mighty  close  shave," 


LOST  IN  A  STORM. 

IT  was  late  in  the  fall  of  1856;  the  country  on  the  upper  Minne- 
sota River  was  beyond  the  borders  of  civilization  even  at  that 
time.  Our  brothers  had  a  contract  for  transporting  govern- 
ment freight  from  St.  Paul  to  Fort  Ridgely,  then  a  new  military 
post  high  up  on  that  tortuous  and  diflBcult  river.  We  had  made 
three  trips  by  flatboat  and  had  proceeded  up  the  river  on  our 
fourth  and  last  trip  to  within  some  forty  miles  of  the  post,  by  land, 
and  double  as  far  by  water.  We  laid  up  for  that  night  just  after 
passing  a  tedious  rapids,  and  in  the  morning  found  the  boat  fro- 
zen in,  and  further  progress  impossible. 

This  was  a  "pretty  kettle  of  fish  "  as  our  brother  expressed  it, 
when  in  the  morning  he  went  out  on  deck  and  looked  the  icy 
prospect  o'er. 

A  council  was  held  after  our  breakfast  of  black  coffee,  pork  and 
biscuit,  and  it  was  resolved  that  while  he  would  proceed  to  the 
fort  overland,  and  employ  teams  there  to  haul  the  freight  through, 
we  should  proceed  to  an  Indian  village  not  far  away,  procure  an 
Indian-pony  and  make  the  trip  th€reon  back  to  the  village  of  St. 
Peter  and  procure  the  necessary  money  to  pay  the  expense  of  de- 
livering the  freight  through  by  team — there  being  money  to  our 
credit  deposited  at  the  latter  place. 

After  considerable  negotiating  we  finally  procured  of  the  old 
Indian  chief  at  the  village,  what  afterward  proved  to  be  a  most 
faithful  little  pony,  and  one  capable  of  the  most  wonderful  endu- 
rance. 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  before  we  were  ready 
for  a  start  across  the  uninhabited  region  stretching  away  some 


Sketches  of  the  West.  85 


thirty  or  forty  miles  toward  St.  Peter;  but,  nothing  daunted,  and 
believing  we  could  follow  the  rather  plain  trail,  the  general  course 
of  which  was  nearly  parallel  with  the  river  valley,  and  after  get- 
ting full  instruction  from  our  brother,  as  well  as  many  a  caution 
to  watch  our  course  and  to  make  as  much  of  the  distance  before 
nightfall  as  possible,  we  gave  the  pony  the  regular  Indian  whoop 
and  were  soon  out  of  sight  over  the  neighboring  bluffs. 

Before  leaving  the  boat  we  noticed  heavy  snow-clouds  banking 
up  in  the  west,  and  had  we  possessed  more  experience  in  the  mat- 
ter of  snow  storms  on  the  prairies  we  should  have  known  it  to  be 
madness  to  have  undertaken  such  a  trip  through  such  a  country 
in  the  face  of  the  accumulating  evidence  of  an  approaching  storm. 

Our  progress  was  both  rapid  and  pleasant  for  the  remainder  of 
the  afternoon,  and  as  our  wiry  little  horse  sped  along  the  trail, 
and  we  gazed  about  on  the  vast  and  wild  domain  on  every  side^ 
we  almost  grew"  enthusiastic  at  times  in  its  enjoyment.  There 
had  fallen  the  previous  night  about  an  inch  of  snow,  and  the  great 
prairie  rolled  away  in  undulating  and  solitary  grandeur  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach.  There  was  nothing  to  break  the  lonely  spell 
that  prevailed,  save  an  occasional  flock  of  prairie  chickens  that 
would  start  up  in  our  path,  a  fox  or  prairie-wolf  that  would  now 
and  then  be  startled  from  his  lair,  by  the  clattering  hoofs  of  our 
little  pony,  and  go  scudding  away  with  a  "yip"  to  some  locality 
where  there  was  more  quiet  and  less  clatter  than  there  was  along 
our  path. 

As  night  approached,  the  storm  also  came  with  it,  and  by  dusk 
it  was  snowing  very  hard,  and  the  wind  also  blew  considerably; 
though,  as  good  luck  would  have  it,  neither  the  wind  or  weather 
were  cold.  By  the  time  darkness  overtook  us,  we  judged  we  had 
made  two-thirds  of  the  distance,  and  were  within  twelve  or  fifteen 
miles  of  our  destination.  Just  before  dark  we  took  as  thorough 
a  view  of  the  lay  of  the  country  ahead  and  upon  either  side  of  us, 
as  the  prevailing  storm  would  admit,  though  about  all  the  land- 
marks distinguishable  were  the  distant  belt  of  timber  that  skirted 
the  river  away  to  our  right,  and  the  grove  at  the  head  of  Swan 
Lake — we  believe  that  is  the  name  of  the  large  lake  lying  north- 
west of  St.  Peter — which  latter  we  passed,  and  it  was  the  last 
object  we  saw  during  the  night  that  followed. 


86  SJcetches  of  the  West. 

Up  to  this  time  the  storm  had  given  us  no  uneasiness;  in  those 
days  "  roughing  it "  was  but  another  name  for  thorough  enjoy- 
ment ;  and  though  but  a  mere  lad,  we  had  been  through  so  many 
clear  and  well-defined  cases  of  "roughing  it"  on  the  frontier, 
that  the  storm  in  which  ourself  and  our  little  Indian  pony  were 
then  thoroughly  enveloped  promised,  to  our  mind,  only  a  real 
neat  occasion  for  a  bit  of  rare  adventure.  The  idea  of  our  becom- 
ing totally,  and  well-nigh  hopelessly  lost  on  that  terrible  night 
never  for  one  instant  enterd  our  head.  In  the  first  place,  we  had 
every  confidence  in  our  ability  to  keep  at  least  somewhere  near  a 
proper  course,  and  of  coming  out  all  right  in  a  couple  of  hours  or 
so  after  night  had  set  in;  and  besides,  we  felt  sure  the  pony's  in- 
stinct would  prevent  our  going  very  far  astray. 

The  night  was  not  a  very  dark  one,  and  had  it  not  been  for  the 
blinding  storm,  that  had  now  begun  to  sweep  over  the  prairie 
with  great  severity,  we  could  have  kept  on  our  course  with  but 
little  difficulty. 

Very  soon  after  passing  Swan  Lake,  however,  we  found  it  im- 
possible to  follow  the  trail,  and  it  was  not  long  until  the  storm 
had  increased  to  a  fury;  all  we  could  do  was  to  sit  astride  our 
little  animal  and  bury  our  face  as  well  as  we  could  in  our  coat 
collar  and  the  Indian  sash  we  had  wound  around  our  head  and 
neck,  our  feet  were  incased  in  moccasins,  and  moccasin-blankets, 
and  we  wore  buckskin  leggings,  coming  above  the  knee,  and 
mittens  of  the  same  material.  It  was  not  until  we  had  lost  all 
sight  of  everything,  depending  upon  the  sagacity  and  endur- 
ance of  our  pony,  that  we  began  to  realize  the  terror  of  our  situa- 
tion. The  snow  soon  grew  so  deep  that  the  pony  could  only 
struggle  through  it  on  a  walk,  and  whither  he  was  traveling  we 
knew  not,  nor  did  we  believe  the  pony  himself  could  keep  his 
bearings  in  such  a  wild  storm.  The  snow  fell,  seemingly,  in 
masses,  and  we  felt  sure  that  we  must  be  buried  alive. 

On,  on  we  went.  The  wind  blew  a  hurricrne  and  we  can  never 
forget  the  awful  sensations  with  which  we  were  thrilled  as  it 
rushed  across  the  plain  with  that  heavy,  ceaseless  roar  only  heard 
where  no  trees  or  shrub  exists  to  mar  its  continuous  moan.  The 
little  animal  that  carried  us  would  sometimes  stop,  and  paw  the 
ground  in  his  trepidation,  and  blow  at  the  nostrils,  as  if  to  say 


Sketches  of  the  West. 


that  he  was  lost,  given  out  and  perishing.  We  could  have  will- 
ingly dismounted  and  struggled  along  as  best  we  could  on  foot, 
but  something  seemed  to  tell  us  to  remain  mounted,  despite  our 
almost  irresistable  inclination,  through  pity,  to  relieve  our  noble 
little  animal  of  his  burden.  His  gait  grew  unsteady  and  fitful  as 
the  night  advanced,  and  by  midnight  —  as  we  judged  —  we  had 
become  so  chilled,  weak  and  wretched,  that  it  was  only  with  the 
greatest  difficulty  we  could  retain  our  position,  and  many  times 
came  near  rolling  headlong  into  the  snow — which,  had  we  done 
would  doubtless  have  ended  our  career,  as  we  never  could  have 
gained  our  feet  again ;  much  less  mounted  the  almost  exhausted 
pony. 

We  now  felt  sure  we  were  wandering,  without  course,  simply 
governed  by  the  formation  of  the  ground,  and  as  the  wind  and 
storm  dictated.  We  lay  forward  on  our  pony,  and  balanced  our- 
self  by  clinging  about  his  neck  with  our  arms,  and  thus  fell  into 
a  semi-conscious  state.  We  had  read  of  persons  who  had  been 
exposed  to  these  bhzzards,  and  that  the  greatest  danger  to  be 
feared  was  the  inability  to  resist  going  to  sleep — which  under 
such  circumstances  would  prove  the  last  slumber.  Against  this 
almost  overpowering  inclination  we  aroused  our  greatest  energy, 
and  battled  with  it  as  only  a  determined  will  could,  in  the  face 
of  a  full  knowledge  of  the  result,  should  we  give  up  to  it.  It  did 
seem,  at  times,  as  though  we  must  succumb  to  the  utter  stupifi- 
cation  that  held  us  in  its  power  like  a  vice;  had  we  possessed  a 
world,  we  should  have  given  it  all  for  one  sweet  sleep.  Yet  we 
fought  it,  and  although  at  times — as  if  it  were  a  dream — we  could 
see  our  old  home,  with  its  warm  fire-place,  its  cheerful  rooms 
and  happy  family  group  gathered  around  the  hearth,  we  did  not 
lose  all  knowledge  of  our  actual  position.  It  was  a  life  struggle 
between  an  agonizing  desire  to  sleep  and  an  unconquerable  deter- 
mination to  remain  awake. 

A  happy  circumstance  it  was,  that  although  as  the  night  wore 
away  it  grew  colder,  yet  during  the  whole  time  it  did  not  become 
freezing  cold.  The  storm  prevailed  with  unabated  fury  until  to- 
ward morning,  when  it  abated  somewhat,  though  it  still  kept  up 
with  great  severity.  As  if  to  reward  us  for  our  determined  battle 
against  an  inclination  to  plunge  off  into  the  snow,  and  sleep  and 


Sketches  of  the  West. 


die,  the  hours  of  the  approaching  morning  gradually,  and  to  some 
extent  brightened  our  senses;  though  our  whole  frame  was  set 
and  stiff,  and  it  was  with  the  greatest  pain  and  difficulty  that  we 
could  raise  our  arm  to  the  briddle  rein,  had  we  desired  to.  Of 
course  we  had  allowed  the  pony  to  stand,  or  proceed,  and  to  wan- 
der as  he  felt  disposed  during  the  terrible  hours  of  that  awful 
night,  because  we  felt  sure  that  if  he  could  not  find  his  way  to  a 
settlement,  through  the  wonderful  instinct  the  horse  is  known  to 
possess,  certainly  it  was  not  in  our  power  to  find  the  way  out  of 
the  solitude  of  a  trackless,  snow-bound,  and  storm-ravaged  plain. 

We  had  well-nigh  given  up  all  hope  of  ever  reaching  the  settle- 
ment, however,  because  we  had  every  reason  to  believe,  by  this 
that  the  pony  had  simply  been  wandering  away  most  of  the  time 
— drifting  before  the  terrific  storm,  and  from  his  spasmodic 
actions,  we  knew  he  could  keep  his  feet  but  a  short  time  longer 
at  best;  and  as  for  ourself,  we  had  now  reached  and  passed  sev- 
eral stages  of  suffering,  and  the  only  other  thing  that  now  seemed 
left  us  to  do  was  to  die,  and  be  wrapped  in  a  snowy  sheet,  and 
buried  by  the  sweeping  and  mourning  winds. 

But,  Hark  ! — no,  it  was  the  clamor  of  the  storm.  No — listen — 
is  it  a  voice?  We  made  out  to  reach  the  rein  and  halt  the  pony, 
and  held  the  little  breath  left  us  to  catch  the  sound — if  sound  it 
was,  other  than  the  roar  of  the  storm-king,  as  he  reveled  in  his 
victory.  Yes  ! — there  it  is  again — away  here  to  the  right,  and  up 
here  in  the  face  of  the  wind — is  surely  the  sound  of  a  human 
voice!  God  be  praised ! — hark!  Yes,  it  is  really  true!  We  grasp 
convulsively  the  rein,  and  turn  our  dying  animal's  face  to  the 
storm,  and  urge  him  to  proceed,  directly  into  the  jaws  of  the  hur- 
ricane; his  will  seemed  to  rise  in  a  last  struggle  to  obey 
our  demand,  and  he  crawls  along,  as  the  jog  of  the  rein  indicates. 
The  sound  grows  plainer  !  It  is  a  voice,  and  seems  to  be  contin- 
uous, as  if  talking  loudly!  Ho!  A  light  glimmers  fitfully  through 
the  falling  snow!  A  moment  more  and  v/e  are  at  the  cabin  door. 
The  voice  ceases  within,  but  we  raise  ours  feebly  from  without, 
and  a  stalwart  pioneer  opens  the  door  and  stares  out  in  utter  as- 
tonishment. He  takes  in  the  situation  at  a  glance,  and  whilst 
his  noble  companion  holds  a  candle  in  the  little  window,  he  car- 
ries us  in  his  great  strong  arms,  into  his  humble  cot,  which  is 


Sketches  of  the  West.  89 

half  buried  in  the  snow,  and  lays  us  on  the  bed,  well  back  from 
the  fire;  then  he  leads  the  pony  into  the  shed  at  the  end  of  the 
cabin,  and  returns  to  ascertain  our  condition.  He  finds  that  we 
are  not  frozen,  but  chilled  nigh  unto  death,  and  the  question  is  a 
serious  one  as  to  whether  we  will  not  perish,  even  yet. 

Consciousness  is  now  blotted  out;  and  when  we  awake  many 
hours  later,  we  find  that  everything  that  kind  and  thoughtful 
hearts  could  do,  has  been  done  to  warm  into  renewed  existence 
the  triflipg  life-spark  we  brought  to  the  humble  though  hospita- 
ble cot. 

We  found,  for  two  days,  such  a  home  in  this  frontier  cabin  as 
is  only  found  among  the  noble  pioneers  of  our  borders.  In  the 
meantime,  we  told  them  our  story  of  that  night,  and  how  we  had 
heard  his  voice,  and  followed  it  till  we  had  reached  his  door.  We 
asked  him  what  it  was  he  was  saying  so  loudly  and  continuously 
as  to  attract  our  stupefied  attention,  and  so,  guide  us  through 
the  storm  until  we  found  his  hut.  He  said  he  was  engaged,  at 
the  time,  in  family  worship;  and  that  it  was  his  prayer — made 
more  than  usually  powerful  and  lengthy  by  reason  of  the  storm 
that  raged  without — in  behalf  of  any  that  might  have  been  over- 
taken by  the  storm's  fury,  that  had  arrested  our  attention,  and 
guided  us  to  our  rescue — and  he  thanked  God  for  that  early  and 
devout  prayer  that  had  proved  our  saving.  Is  it  necessary  to  add 
that  we  also  thanked  God  for  that  prayer? 

Two  days  after,  our  pioneer  saviour  guided  us  to  St  Peter — 
eight  miles  distant.  We  both  went  on  foot,  for  the  noble  little 
horse  was  found  dead,  by  our  host,  a  few  hours  after  we  had 
reached  his  cabin. 


ON    PICKET. 

IT  was  during  the  time  the  Union  army  was  lying  in  front  of 
Buckner's  Confederates,  north  of  Bowling  Green,  Ky.  There 
was  a  distance  of  some  ten  or  twenty  milei^  between  the  two 
great  armies  proper,  and  the  intervening  belt  was  the  scene  of 
many  a  stirring  adventure,  and  narrow  escape  on  the  part  of  both 
Union  and  Confederate  soldiers.  Our  regiment  had  been  posted 
on  the  line  of  railroad  running  from  Louisville  through  Bowling 
Green  and  on  to  Nashville,  some  two  or  three  weeks  ere  the  inci- 
dent occurred  of  which  we  are  about  to  speak.  During  that  time, 
however,  it  was  the  writer's  privilege  to  be  a  member  of  many  of 
the  scouting  parties,  foraging  parties,  and  advance  picket-squads. 
This  was  the  case  because  we  were,  most  of  the  time,  made  a 
member  of  these  parties  by  our  own  urgent  request.  We  never 
enjoyed  better  health  than  during  that  time.  We  had  enlisted 
with  a  set  determination  to  avail  ourself  of  every  opportunity  to 
see  and  experience  every  phase  of  a  soldier's  life,  and  when  hun- 
dreds of  others  murmared  we  would  laugh  and  kick  up  our  heels 
in  ecstacies,  like  a  juvenile  mule  in  the  presence  of  a  hungry  lion. 
We  do  not  claim  any  special  praise  for  this  fact,  because  it  was 
simply  the  result  of  a  sort  of  enthusiastic  mania  which,  whilst  it 
served  us  well,  did  not  indicate  any  deeper  patriotism,  probably, 
than  actuated  thousands  of  those  who  sometimes  murmured  un- 
der trial.  Then  again  there  were  thousands  of  men  who  had  bet- 
ter sense  than  we,  it  is  to  be  presumed,  and  took  their  service  in 
the  army  as  a  very  serious  business,  from  the  first.  We  did  not 
strike  the  idea  of  its  being  a  very  excessively  serious  business 
until  after  we  had  seen  some  considerable  service:  and,  as  a  child 


Sketches  of  the  West.  91 

never  entertains  any  fear  of  the  fire  until  after  it  has  felt  its 
effects,  so  we  did  not  care  a  "  continental "  for  all  the  rebels  this 
side  of  the  Old  Harry,  until  after  we  had  "  seen  "  a  few  of  them 
In  fact,  we  were  really  anxious  to  get  "  mixed  in  "  with  a  lot  of 
them — with  a  mental  reservation,  however,  that  we  should  at  all 
times  "  come  out  on  top."     But  we  digress. 

After  having  been  out  on  several  rather  "  scary  "  expeditions, 
without  anything  very  frightful  having  been  encountered,  we 
were  told  one  evening  by  the  orderly  sergeant  to  make  ready  at 
once  for  duty  on  the  outer  picket-line  that  was  to  be  posted  far 
toward  the  front  that  night.  It  was,  as  nearly  as  we  could 
judge  from  the  quiet  movements  going  on  in  the  preparation  of 
the  squad — w^hich  was  being  selected  from  the  several  companies 
of  the  regiment — to  be  a  sort  of  secret  line  that  was  to  be  thrown 
out  in  the  direction  of  the  enemy,  and  w^e  felt  sure  there  was  a 
good  show  for  some  right  good  soldiering  ere  another  morning 
came. 

Just  as  the  shades  of  evening  were  thickening,  and  the  fires  of 
the  camp  began  to  glow  in  the  twilight,  "we  fell  into  line,"  and 
found  our  squad  was  a  large  one — numbering  eighty  or  a  hun- 
dred men.  As  the  proportion  of  men  that  had  been  selected 
from  our  company  formed  as  the  center  squad  of  the  line,  we 
cast  our  eye  along,  and  saw  by  the  merest  glance  that  it  was  com- 
posed of  "  boys  "  who  went  to  Dixie  with  "business"  in  their 
eye.  To  still  further  convince  us  that  there  was  no  fooling,  we 
noticed  that  the  comander  appointed  over  us  was  "the  French 
Lieutenant,"  or,  as  the  regiment  was  wont  to  call  him,  "The 
Walking  Arsenal."  He  was  a  tall,  wiry  six-footer,  lean,  wrinkled, 
and  battle-scarred  from  head  to  foot.  The  boys  used  to  declare 
that  he  wouldn't  weigh  more  than  fifty  pounds,  if  he  didn't 
have  more  than  a  hundred  pounds  of  lead  in  his  body.  He  had 
served  many  years  in  the  French  army,  and  had  probably  seen 
as  much  or  more  of  the  war  side  of  soldiering  as  any  man  in  the 
Union  army,  east  or  west.  He  was  the  most  terrible  disciplinar- 
ian that  any  army  could  produce;  his  company  was  the  best 
drilled  of  any,  and  his  men  had  been  "  put  through  "  so  long  and 
so  persistently  in  all  the  double-quick  and  running  portion  of  the 
tactics,  the  awful  boyonet  exercises,  etc.,  that  they,  like  himself. 


92  Sketches  of  the  West. 


looked  more  like  a  company  of  tongs,  than  well-proportioned  men 
— they  had  absolutely  been  "soldiered  to  death,"  or  until  they 
were  so  wiry  and  tough,  that  you  could  tie  any  of  them  into  a 
double-bow  knot,  almost.  His  bearing  was  that  of  a  perfect 
soldier,  and  no  one  ever  saw  him,  either  on  or  off  duty,  when  he 
did  not  move  like  a  perfect  military  machine;  he  never  smiled, 
and  when  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty  his  movements  were  a 
marvel  to  behold,  and  he  seemed  to  be  filled  with  the  spirits  of  a 
hundred  military  heroes  combined.  While  his  accent  was  ex- 
ceedingly broken,  the  commands  he  gave  were  easily  understood, 
so  emphatic  and  fiery  was  his  style  of  giving  them — a  perfect 
warrior,  never  happy  save  when  at  war. 

When  all  was  ready  the  lieutenant  gave  the  order,  "rat  fac'! 
fiP  lef,  marsh!  "  This  direction  faced  us  to  the  west,  and  par- 
allel with  the  front  of  the  enemy.  Without  a  word  being  spoken, 
we  marched  in  this  direction — through  field  and  wood,  and  over 
hill  and  ravine — for  a  mile  or  more,  when  our  front  was  changed 
to  the  south,  through  a  rough  and  broken  country — a  sort  of  oak 
barrens.  The  evening,  for  a  time,  was  clear,  and  by  the  faint 
starlight  we  carefully  pursued  our  way  for  a  distance  of  about 
two  miles.  Suddenly  we  came  to  a  halt  in  the  middle  of  a  dense 
strip  of  timber,  and  here  the  lieutenant  informed  us  he  was  to 
commence  posting  his  line  of  pickets;  posting  one  man  in  a  place, 
running  his  line  east  toward  and  across  the  railroad,  forming  a 
line  of  outer  pickets  about  two  miles  in  front  of  our  army.  Each 
man  was  to  have  his  beat,  across  which  he  was  to  allow  no  one  to 
pass;  we  should  not  be  relieved  during  the  night,  and  should  be 
held  accountable  for  the  faithful  and  full  performance  of  our 
duty,  until  called  in,  in  the  early  morning;  that  if  any  were  cap- 
tured, the  picket  making  the  capture  should  notify  the  next  ones 
to  him.  and  while  they  would  each  take  a  half  of  his  beat  to 
guard  during  his  absence,  the  captor  would  march  his  prisoner 
into  camp  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet.  This  was  indeed  an  extra- 
ordinary order,  and  a  mode  of  picket  regulations  we  never  exper- 
ienced before  or  afterward.  Nevertheless,  the  first  duty  of  a 
soldier  is  to  obey  orders,  and  we  presume  that  particular  squad 
would  have  obeyed  orders,  to  the  best  of  their  ability,  had  they 
been  told  to  "hold  the  fort"  on  that  beat  all  winter.     It  mav 


Sketches  of  the  West.  93 

have  been  picket  duty  on  the  French  plan,  however. 

Posting  his  first  picket  at  that  point,  we  filed  to  the  left,  or 
east,  and  our  commander  stationed  his  men  at  regular  intervals 
having  a  sufiicient  number  of  men  to  make  his  line  nearly  two 
miles  in  length,  as  we  judged,  extending  about  the  same  distance 
either  way  from  the  railroad.  Being  near  the  middle  of  the  line, 
the  writer  was  assigned  a  beat  the  easterly  end  of  which  rested 
on  the  railroad  track  and  the  westerly  end  terminated  at  an  im- 
mense oak  tree,  about  twenty  rods  from  the  track.  The  railroad 
at  this  point  crossed,  by  means  of  a  bridge,  a  deep  cut,  at  the  bot- 
tom of  which  was  a  small  brook;  our  beat  ran  along  down  by  the 
margin  of  the  brook,  which  had  a  steep,  caved-off  bank  all  along, 
from  four  to  six  feet,  nearly  perpendicular,  to  the  brook;  the  op- 
posite or  southern  bank  of  the  stream  was  much  lower,  sloping 
gently  back  to  a  thick  growth  of  low  oak  bushes,  covered  with 
dry  leaves — it  being  in  early  December,  Here  we  were  left  alone 
in  our  glory,  whilst  the  command  passed  on,  silently  and  stealth- 
ily, soon  being  lost  in  the  faint  starlight. 

At  last  we  felt  kind  of  all-overish,  like — something  after  the 
fashion  of  an  orphan,  as  it  were.  It  was  a  lonely  "  time  of  day," 
anyway,  and  was  in  one  of  the  loneliest  places  imaginable,  and 
we  were  alone  ourself ,  as  will  be  inferred.  We  looked  up  at  the 
stars,  around  upon  the  barrens,  as  well  as  we  could,  up  and  down 
our  beat,  and  then  cautiously  approached  the  steep  bank  of  the 
little  brook — which  "babbled"  just  a  little — and  peered  down  until 
as  our  eyes  grew  a  little  used  to  the  light,  or  rather  the  dark  down 
there,  we  could  discover  the  faint  glimmer  of  the  clear  water. 
Then,  quietly  taking  our  bayonet  from  its  scabbard,  we  "fixed  " 
it  on  the  persuading  end  of  our  musket,  carefully  examined  the 
cap  on  the  tube,  and  after  being  satisfied  that  we  were  completely 
prepared  for  the  business  of  enforcing  the  laws  of  the  United 
States,  upon  either  man  or  beast,  we  proceeded  to  make  our  first 
cautious  trip  over  our  beat,  making  a  note  of  the  slightest  object 
all  along  in  the  vicinity.  Having  run  on  the  river  many  a  dark 
night  as  well  as  many  a  light  one,  we  soon  figured  out  the  "  lay 
of  the  land  "  about  us,  and  had  a  very  accurate  idea  of  the  sur- 
roundings. On  our  second  trip,  we  discovered  at  the  railroad  end 
of  the  beat,  the  next  picket,  who  was  on  the  other  side  of  the 


94  Sketches  of  the  West. 

track,  though  neither  of  us  spoke;  we  soon,  also,  met  the  picket 
whose  beat  ended  at  the  big  tree  on  the  other  side,  and  we  "  vis- 
ited "  once  for  a  moment,  but  soon  separated,  and  him  we  did  not 
see  again. 

About  nine  o'clock  it  commenced  raining  and  the  rain  fell  in  a 
torrent,  accompanied  by  the  most  startling  thunder  and  the  most 
terrible  lightning,  we  had  ever  heard  or  seen;  even  with  our  heavy 
army  overcoat,  we  became  quite  wet,  and  it  was  only  by  the  most 
strenuous  efforts  that  we  kept  our  gun-load  from  becoming  wet. 
After  the  storm  had  passed,  we  put  a  fresh  cap  on  the  tube  to 
make  sure.  The  ground  was  flooded  with  water,  and  the  little 
brook  seemed  to  be  swelling  rapidly — we  inwardly  hoped  it  would 
rise  six  feet  at  once,  and  then  no  rebel  spies  or  other  emissaries 
would  attempt  to  trouble  us.  The  stars  came  out  brightly  after 
the  rain,  so  that  a  pretty  good  view  could  be  had  for  several  rods 
in  any  direction. 

It  might  have  been  midnight  when,  as  we  carefully  walked,  or 
rather  waded  up  and  down  our  beat,  we  thought  we  heard  a  faint 
noise,  as  if  some  one  had  stumbled  and  fallen,  some  distance  away, 
down  the  track.  We  halted,  and  cocked  our  ear  sharply,  for  a 
long  time,  but  could  hear  nothing  more;  but  so  convinced  were 
we  that  it  was  a  well  defined  sound,  that  could  not  have  been 
made  save  by  a  human,  that  we  kept  our  ear  primed,  while  we 
noiselessly  and  slowly  walked  up  and  down.  After  a  long  time 
we  again  caught  a  sound,  as  if  made  by  some  one  approaching  up 
the  railroad  track,  cautiously  along  on  the  ties,  and  thus  it 
proved. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  cautious  tread,  until  the  person, 
whoever  it  was,  approached  the  other  end  of  the  open  railroad 
bridge;  by  this  time  we  could  distinguish  a  form,  and  quietly 
putting  ourself  into  perfect  readiness,  we  did  not  take  our  eyes 
from  the  figure.  When  he  reached  the  bridge  he  halted,  and  for 
a  moment  or  two  was  evidently  estimating  whether  he  had  better 
attempt  to  follow  the  narrow  board  along  the  center  of  the  track, 
over  the  bridge,  or  go  down  off  the  embankment  and  wade  the 
stream.  We  are  free  to  confess  that  we  mentally  prayed  if  he  de- 
cided on  the  latter  course,  he  would  go  down  the  bank  on  the 
other  side  and  cross  the  stream  on  the  next  soldier's  beat — but 


Sketches  of  the  West.  95 

he  didn't.  No;  that  is  why  we  scribble  these  "few  lines" — he 
crossed  the  stream,  and  attempted  to  cross  the  picket  line  on  the 
beat  over  which  we  had  been  given  the  special  supervision  for 
the  night.  ^ 

While  he  proceeded  with  the  utmost  caution,  as  became  a  sol- 
dier and  a  spy — which  he  doubtless  was — it  was  evident  to  our 
mind  that  he  did  not  expect  to  encounter  a  line  of  Union  outposts 
for  some  distance  further  on. 

After  abandoning  the  idea  of  crossing  the  bridge,  he  turned 
and  went  back  along  the  track  a  few  rods  and  then  descended  the 
high  embankment  into  the  oak  thicket,  and  cautiously,  though 
not  altogether  noiselessly,  approached  the  brook  and  our  post. 
We  kept  silently  changing  our  position  to  correspond  with  his 
advance,  and  it  was  soon  evident  that  he  knew  where  the  best 
place  to  clamber  up  the  steep  bank  on  our  side  was  located.  We 
saw  the  spot  he  was  aiming  for,  and  opposite  this  and  back  a  few 
feet  we  crouched,  ready  to  "  welcome  him  with  bloody  hands  to 
a  hospitable  grave,"  if  that  should  be  the  only  course  left  us. 
Soon  he  emerged  from  the  brush  and  came  lightly  down  to  the 
water's  edge,  where  for  a  moment  he  halted  and  cast  his  eye  up 
and  down  the  stream  and  around  him.  Then  he  deliberately 
waded  in,  hip-deep,  and  by  a  few  steady  strides  reached  the  em- 
bankment. We  could  see  him  sufficiently  plain  to  tell  that  he 
carried  no  gun,  but  when  he  gathered  up  his  long,  brown,  slovenly 
overcoat  to  keep  it  from  getting  wet,  we  distinctly  heard  the  muf- 
fled clank  of  his  side  arms,  which  hung  from  his  belt,  but  fortun- 
ately for  us,  probably,  underneath  his  buttoned  outside  coat,  as 
we  afterwards  learned. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  assure  our  readers  that  in  the  brief 
interval  he  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bank,  all  the  scenes  of  our 
life,  and  the  possibilities  of  an  immediate  future,  went  through 
our  mind  with  the  quickness  of  a  single  thought;  we  well  guessed 
the  eharactcr  of  the  man  we  had  to  deal  with,  and  we  knew  there 
was  but  one  way  open  to  us  where  we  stood  any  chance  to  come 
out  first-best:  that  was  to  get  the  advantage  of  him  and  then  be 
smart  enough  to  keeji  it. 

There  we  were,  not  twenty  feet  apart,  he  all  unconscious  of  the 
presence  of  any  man  or  beast;  we,  crouched  close  to  the  ground. 


96  SketcJies  of  the  West. 

barely  peering  over  the  edge  of  the  bank,  but  in  a  position  to  rise 
to  a  "  ctiarge  bayonet "  in  a  twinkling — and  to  bring  our  bayonet 
within  a  foot  of  the  edge  of  the  bank,  and  close  to  the  breast  of  the 
enemy  as  he  came  to  clamber  up  the  bank.  It  seemed  as  though, 
he  must  hear  our  heart  as  it  pounded  our  sides  like  a  small  pile- 
driver;  but  as  he  started  toward  us,  we  seemed  to  be  frozen  into 
a  sort  of  rigid  coolness;  and,  in  a  steady,  impetuous  tone — just  as 
he  straightened  up  to  give  the  bound  over  the  bank — we  com- 
manded "Halt! "  and  suiting  the  action  to  the  word  brought  our 
bayonet  and  the  muzzle  of  our  cocked  musket  within  a  foot  or  two 
of  his  breast. 

He  gave  a  sudden  start,  and  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  as  he 
quickly  realized*  the  position  in  which  he  was  placed.  Almost 
instantly,  however,  he  steadied  up,  and  coolly,  with  a  voice  alto- 
gether too  pleasant  and  cordial  to  be  honest,  exclaimed  : 

"Why,  good  evenin'  sir  !  You're  a  good  ways  from  camp,  ain't 
yer?    I  didn't  expect  to  find  soldiers  so  close  to  where  I  live." 

"  You  can't  'most  always  tell  where  you'll  find  my  kind  of  sol- 
diers," we  replied.  "  One  thing  I  wan't  to  tell  you,  though,  and 
that  is,  if  you  make  a  single  move  with  your  hands  as  if  to  reach 
for  a  pistol  or  other  arm,  or  attemt  to  run  either  toward  or  from 
me,  I'll  blow  you  into  the  middle  of  kingdomcome — do  you  un- 
derstand?" 

"Well,  yes;  I  understand;  but,  ha-ha-ha — I  say,  friend,  yer 
needn't  be  dangerous,  'cause  I'm  a  friend  to  the  Yankees — an' 
I'm  all  right  on  the  goose,  yer  know,  eh?" 

"  Exactly;  this  miserable  country  is  full  of  'friends  to  the  Yank- 
ees'— only  it  isn't,"  we  replied;  "  Climb  up  here  on  the  bank,  but 
beware  of  my  warning,  or  you're  a  dead  man." 

"  But,  yer  not  goin'  to  take  me  prisoner,  are  you?"  he  asked. 
"Why,"  said  he,  "  I  live  right  down  here  a  mile  or  so,  an'  I  was 
just  goin'  over  to  Jim  Giles'  to  borrow  a  little  meal  of  him  till  I 
could  go  to  mill — yer  ain't  goin'  to  stop  me,  are  ye?" 

He  was  a  very  tall,  lank,  swarthy  fellow,  about  forty  years  of 
age  as  nearly  as  we  could  judge;  his  hair  was  long,  and  he  had  a 
ponderous  whisker  which  hung  in  a  tangled  mass  nearly  to  his 
waist,  and  he  was  altogether  a  dangerous  looking  individual.  We 
saw  that,  because  of  his  overcoat  being  over  his  firearms,  we  had 


Sketches  of  the  West.  97 

an  advantage  of  him  that  we  could  hold,  if  we  only  used  suflBcient 
vigilance.  We  saw,  too,  that  he  realized  this,  and  that  the  object 
he  hoped  to  gain  by  his  parleying  was  to  throw^  us  off  our  guard 
enough  to  give  him  a  chance  to  get  to  his  pistols;  but  having  him 
in  our  power,  and  believing  we  could  hold  it,  we  rather  consented 
in  our  mind  to  permit  him  to  talk  a  little,  to  see  what  he  had  to 
say.  We  told  him,  in  answer  to  his  last,  that  we  considered  it  a 
rather  singular  time  of  night  to  be  going  to  a  neighbor's  to  bor- 
row meal  and  that  he  must  consider  himself  our  prisoner, 
and  that  he  must  do  our  bidding;  or,  refusing  to  obey  our  orders 
promptly,  it  would  be  at  his  peril. 

"Well,  I'll  be  d — d!  "  said  he;  "your  the  most  unaccomodaten- 
ist  feller  I  ever  seed;  ain't  yer  goin'  to  let  me  go  on  about  my 
business,  an'  not  delay  me  from  goin'  over  to  neighbor  Giles 
place?" 

"No,  sir!  "  we  replied.  "  I  want  you  to  climb  up  here  without 
any  further  words  about  it,  put  your  hands  behind  your  back, 
and  march  ahead  of  this  bayonet  and  loaded  musket  into  camp; 
in  the  morning  if  you  are  found  to  be  the  pink  of  innocence,  as  you 
claim,  you  can  proceed  to  your  neighbor's  place  or  elsewhere. 
Come,  climb  up  here!  " 

He  was  a  persistent  fellow,  how^ever,  and  must  have  been  reck- 
lessly brave,  or  he  would  never  have  taken  the  chances  he  did. 
His  daring,  too,  confirmed  us  as  to  his  character;  and  well  w^as 
he  fitted  for  the  business  in  which  he  was  engaged.  After  our 
last  order,  he  made  a  sort  of  half -motion,  as  if  to  spring  up  to  the 
level,  but  then  he  settled  back  again,  and  striking  the  ground 
with  his  clinched  fist  he  declared: 

"See  here,  my  young  chap,  I'm  a  peacable* citizen,  and  I've  a 
right  to  go  where  I  please;  and  I  just  reckon  I'm  going  to  go 
through  this  line,  if  I  have  to  go  over  your  dead  body — yer  can't 
fool  with  this  chicken,  not  by  a  d — d  sight;  yer  hear  me?  " 

Right  at  this  point  your  "uncle's"  dander  began  to  stand  on 
end;  we  felt  sure  the  matter  had  come  to  a  crisis,  and  the  rough 
customer  was  not  going  to  surrender  without  a  sanguinary  row. 
The  first  thought  that  flashed  through  our  mind  was  to  let  him 
pass;  but  that  cowardly  idea  could  not  long  be  entertained  in  a 
heart  that  prided  itself  somewhat  upon  its  patriotic  impulses  and 


Sketches  of  the  West. 


soldierly  qualities — as  ours  did  at  that  time.  The  next  thought 
was  to  pull  the  trigger  and  send  him  heels-over-head  into  etemitj^ 
And  yet,  while  on  the  very  point  of  ending  the  matter  in  this  way 
— which  the  circumstances  seemed  to  warrant — our  heart  relented 
at  the  idea  of  shedding  blood,  until  no  possible  w^ay  was  left  to 
avoid  it.  All  this  and  much  more  passed  through  our  mind  in 
little  more  than  a  twinkling,  and  he  had  scarcely  stopped  speak- 
ing when,  in  a  voice  and  manner  that  must  have  convinced  him 
that  the  end  of  "foolishness"  had  come,  we  replied: 

"  Look  here,  my  dear  fellow,  I  do  not  wish  to  shoot  you  down 
like  a  dog,  particularly  as  I  have  you  completely  in  my  power; 
but  I  give  you  one  last  chance  for  your  life;  if  you  do  not  obey 
my  every  command,  now,  on  the  instant  that  I  give  it,  I  shall 
blow  you  to  pieces  as  certain  as  you  are  now  living;  now^,  then, 
you  know  the  terms,  and  you  can  choose  for  yourself." 

"  Weil,"  he  muttered  with  a  fearful  oath,  "  what  do  you  want 
me  to  do  first?" 

"  I  want  you  to  climb  up  here,  swing  your  hands  around  back 
of  "you  and  clasp  them,  outside  your  overcoat." 

"All  right,  here  I  come,  he  said,  as  he  nimbly  sprang  first  to 
the  level  and  then  to  his  feet,  slinging  his  arms  behind  him  and 
locking  his  hands  as  ordered,  and  with  a  precision  of  movement 
that  too  well  told  that  he  was  no  stranger  to  hard  military  drill. 

"Now,"  he  said  reluctantly,  "  what  in  h next  do  yer  want  yer 

dog  to  do?" 

"I  want  you  to  march  steadily  along  down  to  the  railroad 
track,  then  turn  north  and  follow  the  center  of  the  track  until 
we  reach  military  headquarters,  where  I  shall  turn  you  over  to 
the  provost  marshal — but,  mind  you,  do  not  dare  to  unclasp  your 
hands  or  move  them  from  their  present  position.  Forward, 
march!  " 

Upon  reaching  the  track  we  espied  the  next  adjoining  picket, 
who  was  approaching  the  railroad  end  of  his  beat,  and  we  told 
him  we  were  leaving  our  post,  and  to  take  charge  of  it,  and  then 
we  took  up  our  line  of  march,  with  our  prisoner  a  few  inches 
ahead  of  our  bayonet-point. 

"Why,"  he  broke  out  pretty  soon,  "these  bushes  must  be 
chock  full  o'  you  'blue  devils,'  ain't  they?" 


Sketches- of  the  West.  99 

We  told  him  there  were  a  few  around  those  parts. 

"When  did  yer  put  out  that  line  of  pickets?"  he  inquired. 

"  Well,  we  put  out  that  line  just  in  time  to  pick  you  up,  didn't 
we?"  we  replied. 

"  I  reckon  yer  did,"  he  answered.  "  That  line  wasn't  out  afore 
tonight,  I'll  bet  yer  a  coon.  I  never  was  so  much  surprised  in 
my  life  as  when  I  run  squar  ag'inst  you.  How  far  is  it  in  to  the 
Yankee  camp?" 

"  About  two  miles  and  a  half." 

Then  he  quieted  down,  and  did  not  speak  again  until  we  had 
nearly  reached  headquarters;  though,  every  little  while  he  would 
turn  his  head  to  see  how  near  that  bayonet  and  cocked  gun  was 
to  his  back.     At  last  he  said: 

"I  say,  partner,  yer  ain't  goin'  to  march  me  up  to  headquar- 
ters in  this  shape,  like  a  mad-dog,  are  yer — let  me  walk  along  side 
of  you  like  a  respectable  gentleman,  now  that  we  are  in  sight  of 
camp,  and  be  a  little  decent  about  it,  won't  yer?" 

"  I  am  not  borrowing  much  trouble  about  the  '  decency  '  or  re- 
spectability of  this  business,"  we  responded;  it  is  a  plain  case  of 
duty,  and  you  suit  me  ever  so  much  better  just  where  you  are;  so 
don't  give  us  any  more  of  your  suggestions;  if  I  think  of  any  plan 
that  will  suit  me  better,  I'll  let  you  know." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  you're  the  most  persistentest  cuss  about  hold- 
ing an  advantage  when  you've  got  it,  that  ever  seen;  but  yer  can 
just  bet  yer  boots  that  yer  done  the  right  thing  fer  yerself  when 
you  held  onto  the  advantage  that  yer  got  in  the  start." 

Then  he  muttered  something  about  being  a  fool  for  sticking 
to  the  railroad  track  so  long — he  might  have  know  they'd  a  put 
pickets  out  further  every  night,  etc.  He  grew  exceedingly  ner- 
vous as  we  neared  our  destination,  and  we  felt  almost  sure  at 
times  that  he  was  resolved  upon  making  a  break  for  his  liberty. 
But'  by  repeating  to  him  occasionally  what  the  certain  penalty  of 
such  a  movement  would  be,  he  finally  gave  up  and  walked  straight 
for  the  commandant's  headquarters,  which  were  located  close  to 
the  track. 

We  were  met  by  two  guards  who  took  charge  of  the  prisoner, 
until  we  reported  to  the  marshal,  when  he  was  placed  in  irons, 
and  the  next  day  instead  of  being  permitted  to  "go  over  to  his 


100  Sketches  of  the  West. 

neighbor  Giles's  to  get  some  meal,"  he  was  sent  to  the  military 
prison  at  Louisville. 

The  marshal  ordered  us  to  return  to  our  beat,  and  as  we  wend- 
ed our  way  back,  we  felt  as  though  our  clothes  had  somehow  got 
too  big  for  us,  as  we  began  to  shrink  down  from  the  high  pitch  of 
excitement  the  taking  of  our  first  prisoner  had  caused  us;  and 
all  the  next  day  we  felt  as  though  we  had  been  squeezed  through 
a  clothes-wringer,  or  been  enjoying  a  long  run  of  nightmare. 


THE  OLD  SETTLER. 

EVERY  community  is  blessed  with  its  "  old  settler" — the  old 
chap  who  can  tell  you  how  many  deer  and  bear  he  has  killed 
"  not  twenty  rods  from  where  your  house  now  stands."  He 
delights  to  tell  how  many  hard  days'  work  he  did  with  only  three 
small  potatoes  and  a  roasted  chipmonk  to  eat;  and  who  was  the 
first  baby  born  in  the  town,  and  how  they  sent  for  him  to  pre- 
side, because  he  happened  to  be  the  only  man  in  the  region  who 
knew  what  was  good  for  babies.  He  walks  around  among  the 
modern  settlers  with  all  the  airs  possible  for  an  original  "devel- 
oper" and  carries  the  conviction  to  every  heart  that  he,  the  old 
settler,  is  ever  so  much  more  than  an  everlastingly  "  wise  injun." 
He  can  kick  a  neighbor's  dog  clear  across  the  street,  and  it's  all 
right;  because  he  is  the  "  old  settler,"  and  emphatically  the  priv- 
eleged  character.  When  he  comes  into  a  town  meeting,  every- 
body, for  a  moment,  dries  up,  and  grabs  onto  a  more  respectful 
run  of  sentences,  and  when  they  presume  to  advance  an  idea  they 
involuntarily  turn  and  address  the  old  settler  in  the  hope  that  he 
may  nod  an  approving  smile,  or  smile  an  approving  nod;  if  they 
get  it,  they  laugh  right  out;  if  his  countenance  clouds  over,  then 
the  speaker  very  quickly  sits  down,  leaving  an  impression  that  he 
"didn't  say  anything,  nohow,"  and  didn't  try  to.  An  "old  set- 
tler "  can  tell  one  story  over  more  times,  successfully,  than  any- 
body else.  He  has  but  a  small  stock,  generally,  because  a  story 
without  himself  as  the  hero,  isn't  any  story  at  all;  and  in  order 
to  be  plausible,  he  dare  not  hero  himself  too  often  for  fear  it 
might  get  what  this  age  terms  "thin."  Even  the  naked  truth 
gets   thin   enough  after  you  have  listened  to  it  four  or  five  thou- 


102  Sketches  of  the  West. 

sand  times.  There  will  be  a  terrible  vacancy  in  our  western  com- 
munities when  all  the  first  settlers  die;  there  will  be  a  happy 
lonesomeness  prevailing  for  a  long  time,  but  after  awile  it  would 
seem  sort  of  good  to  have  them  come  back  again — just  to 
get  off  that  story  once  more;  it  would  seem  so  old-fashioned,  like. 
The  "old  settler"  is  happy,  because  he  knows  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  him  the  country  would  never  have  developed;  hence,  he  can 
afford  to  be  arrogant,  uncivil,  and  imagine  himself  a  real  actual- 
ity, and  everybody  else  mere  accidentals.  He  nearly  always  says 
"no "  to  every  progressive  movement,  because  it  shows  he  has  a 
mind  of  his  own,  that  he  is  the  only  man  who  ^^  knows  to  the  con- 
trary," and  besides  he  wants  things  kept  just  as  near  the  "good 
old  way  "  as  possible.  All  in  all,  the  "old  settler  "  is  an  eccentric 
old  gimlet,  and  aside  from  keeping  up  a  perfectly  freezing  dignity, 
and  being  perfectly  harmless,  is  of  about  as  much  public  use,  as 
a  bull  is  a  private  success  in  a  china  shop. 


GATHERING  WILD-CATS. 

LAST  winter  it  was  the  wolves  that  annoyed  our  good  people 
who  lived  in  the  suburbs  of  the  city,  and  along  the  bluff  and 
ravine  ranges  in  rear  of  the  town — up  and  down  the  valley. 
We  made  a  raid  upon  the  wolves,  however,  and  abated  the 
nuisance.  This  winter,  a  streak  of  wild-cats  seem  to  be  on.  A 
few  days  ago  we  began  to  feel  it  a  duty  we  owed  to  posterity,  to 
change  the  wild-cat  condition  of  things:  and  so,  we  hired  a  cheap 
boy — a  regular  baked-mud  specimen  of  street  urchin,  who  had 
long  since  become  a  stranger  to  fear,  and  to  soap — and  started 
for  the  hills.  We  always  have  use  for  such  a  boy  when  we  go  out 
to  gather  wild-cats.  We  promised  him  that  if  he  would  go  along 
and  carry  the  cats,  and  do  all  that  we  required  of  him  on  the  trip, 
and  would  skin  the  cats  and  dry  the  hides  after  we  got  home,  he 
would  be  entitled  to  one-third  interest  in  the  peltry. 

We  reached  a  rocky  ridge  early,  and  just  about  the  time  the 
varmints  had  gotten  comfortably  settled  in  their  holes  after  their 
night's  raid  on  the  hen-roosts  of  the  neighborhood.  It  was  not 
long  before  we  found  a  hole  in  the  rocks  accompanied  by  what 
we  considered  infallible  signs  of  the  presence  of  cats,  and  we  at 
once  prepared  to  clear  that  hole  of  its  occupant  or  occupants  as 
the  number  of  cats  therein  might  indicate,  and  we  told  the  boy 
to  button  up  his  coat  and  prepare  to  go  in  on  a  tour  of  inspection 
whilst  we  would  remain  outside  and  just  above  the  hole,  and 
"  polish  them  off  "  when  they  came  out,  with  our  long-handled 
tomahawk. 

The  boy,  although  he  was  probably  dead  to  fear,  seemed  to 
retain  a  slight  smattering  of  good  judgment,  though  his  appear- 


104  Sketches  of  the  West. 

ance  didn't  seem  to  indicate  that  he  possessed  the  slighest  dis- 
crimination between  a  proper  and  an  improper  proposition. 

He  looked  into  the  hole'  turned  and  looked  at  the  "  signs,"  and 
then  at  us,  and  said:  "  See  here,  boss,  what  do  you  take  me  fur, 
anyway?  "  We  told  him  we  took  him  "  fur  "  to  go  into  holes  to 
drive  out  the  animals;  that  if  we  had  taken  him  along  just  for  an 
ornament,  we  wouldn't  have  agreed  to  pay  him  such  an  immense 
margin  of  profits;  that  a  one-third  interest  in  the  net  proceeds  of 
a  wild-cat  hunt,  when  we  let  ourself  loose,  was  not  to  be  sneezed 
at. .  He  looked  down  into  the  hole  again,  and  then  asked  about 
how  much  his  share  would  amount  to;  and  we  informed  him  that 
it  depended  altogether  upon  how  he  panned  out  as  a  "driver" 
— that  if  he  drove  enough  cats  under  our  weapon,  there  wasn't 
any  telling  how  many  hundred  dollars  it  would  figure  up.  Then 
he  wanted  to  know  the  best  way  to  drive  them  out;  and  we  told 
him  to  go  in  feet  foremost  and  allow  the  cats  to  ' '  shut  down  ' '  on 
his  pant-legs,  or  on  his  coat-tail,  and  then  to  come  out  with  his 
game — let  them  drive  him  out;  if  they  didn't  bite,  then  he  was  to 
drive  them  out.  He  said  he  would  go  into  that  one  hole,  just  to 
show  us  he  wasn't  afraid  of  wild-cats,  but  if  he  didn't  bring  out 
a  hundred  dollars  worth  of  cats  the  first  pass,  he  would  quit  and 
go  home — 'cause  it  was  worth  that  much  to  go  into  a  hole  where 
"signs"  wuz  so  fresh. 

Pulling  his  old  hat  over  his  ears  and  drawing  his  head  down 
inside  his  coat-collar,  he  backed  down  into  the  hole,  and  soon  was 
out  of  sight,  whilst  we  squared  ourself  just  one  side  of  the  mouth, 
with  tomahawk  raised  and  muscle  swollen  up  like  a  hickory -nut. 

"How  goes  it.  Si?"  we  yelled  down  the  hole. 

"  I'm  a  gittin'  'im!"  he  yelled  back,  "  He's  snappin'  at  me  now, 
an' — an'  oh,  lordy — look  out,  I'm  a  comin'— he,  whoop! — wah! — 
phew — ew — here  we  come,  dod-rot  us!" 

Just  at  that  Si  came  rolling  and  tumbling  up  out  of  the  hole, 
and,  sticking  tightly  to  the  broadest  part  of  his  dilapidated 
breeches  was  the  cat;  we  went  for  him  with  our  tomahawk  at  the 
first  glimpse  we  caught  of  him,  and  then — oh,  shades  of  the 
stately  cedar!  The  cat  commenced  to  defend  his  position,  after 
the  true  fashion  of  his  race,  and  quickly  did  we  receive  his  copi- 
ous and  unerring  shafts.   Great  guns  and  little  fishes!   Before  we 


Sketches  of  the  West.  105 

could  reach  a  place  of  safet)^,  or  a  place  where  we  could  lie  down 
and  roll  in  the  mud  and  hate  ourself  to  death,  we  had  become  a 
walking  pest-house.  Si  had  brought  out  the  wrong  kind  of  a  cat. 
Si  had  rolled  clear  to  the  foot  of  the  hill,  whilst  we  turned  a  som- 
ersault over  a  precipice  fifteen  feet  high,  and  struck  in  a  friendly 
mud-hole — but  even  that  beat  a  skunk-hole  all  to  death.  We  put 
ourself  to  soak  over  night  in  a  solutian  of  weak  lye  and  ammonia, 
and  the  next  day  made  out  to  appear  as  usual,  but  everybody 
wanted  to  know  why  we  looked  so  "  bleached  out."  Poor  Si,  we 
haven't  seen  him  since:  but  we  feel  sure  he  is  satisfied  without 
calling  on  us  for  a  further  share  of  the  dividends  of  our  wild-cat 
hunt. 


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